think of your healing as a seed: you’re pushed into the dirt and

dear me from two years ago,
I need you to be brave

watching the yeast explode in the bowl like I’ve been doing since I was eight years old; crescent rolls and pizza dough mostly

I am a parent. a mother they say. but I don’t feel that way because I was raised with parents who

I am leaving butterfly kisses on flowers that I grew from my body

I don’t think we ever stop wanting to be loved by the ones who created us. There had to be a little love there in

Sometimes my poems come from songs and sometimes my songs come from poems. This is one of those, enjoy a poorly lit, imperfect jam sesh in my living room.

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

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