nothing feels right at the end of July

no one knew that a few days later you’d be lying in the ICU

hooked up to tubes and a machine that kept you breathing

and now I count August by fives

a bronzed and wrinkled shirtless man with a gaping tooth grin and a tattoo on the corner of his chest crossed my path as I walked by with my flowers in hand

the other day I was riding my bike behind my two boys in my sweaty t-shirt and shorts and a man in a car stopped to ask

today I will be gentle to her

I get tan lines between my thighs where they kiss

there is no space between my knees

these thighs made of thunder or

I am a parent a mother they say but I don’t feel that way because I was raised with parents who expected you to obey at all times and if you didn’t

I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago, but it

I come from a line of broken womenlike broken rivers singing in a broken songwhere the water starts to moanturns to mudturns to stone

you didn’t love me well you couldn’t didn’t know how because the love you knew was covered in dust

my new neighbor has a black cat

black cats are my favorite because

everyone thinks they’re signs of bad luck

(just like me)

Wondering how you can self-publish your own poetry book? This post gives you a quick overview on how to do it.

Writing things out is one of the ways I process things and so I’ve created a list of 50+ journal prompts for healing and self-discovery.