April 26, 2017: Why I Became a Friendless Bitch

At 22, I had over ten
close friends. 
At 28, I barely have one. 
I became depressed. 
I bawled on
the production floor
at work. 
I would (still) overthink
that there must
be something wrong with me. 

Why else would
my best friend
ghost me?
I once asked my mom
if I could do dance
for a year
only because I was
the only girl scout
who didn't have a tutu. 

"Friends Forever" 
don't mean shit
in my book. 

April 23, 2017: What it Means to be Defined

The definition of beautiful does not require the word skinny. 
The definition of love does not require sex. 
The definition of honesty does not require a lie. 
The definition of fate does not require a fortune cookie. 
The definition of trust does not require paperwork. 
The definition of family does not require blood.
The definition of hope does not require prayer.

The definition of marriage requires respect.
The definition of friendship requires a friend. 
The definition of remorse requires feelings. 
The definition of betrayal requires being selfish. 

The definition of me;
that requires heart and empathy.


 

April 21, 2017: My Grandma Millie

I never truly appreciated
my grandmother
until she wasn't
really my grandmother anymore. 

As a teenager, I was forced
to go up to my grandparents'
house one summer.

Their house always
displayed pictures
of my dad and his brothers
and sister
when they were small. 

It disappointed me
to see that my cousins'
pictures crowded
my family's polaroids. 

I never thought
I would truly miss
the way she would hug
each of us grandkids
as if she was never
going to see us again. 

After she had been
confined to Fort Dodge's
nursing home
she never showed
how badly her heart
was breaking...
knowing that she was fading. 

I can never say
I knew my grandma
but I can say
that I felt her broken heart
wishing I could
mend it with my own. 
 

April 20, 2017: She Remembers You

I bet you never
remember the girl
who doodled your name
all over her notebook. 

I bet you never
think about the pretty cashier
who wrote/published a poem
based on you.

I bet you forgot
the girl
who thought you were cute
before you bought
her best friend a drink.

I bet you simply
thought that girl
would rememeber you. 

Guess what?
She did. 
 

April 19, 2017: Vodka Orgasms & a Spade

I hate it when you shut down on me like that. 

I hate that I let you in where you did not belong

I hate it because I’m the reason you do.

I know now there was no reason.

You repeatedly talk about how much you don’t like talking about
feelings, and sad things.

You repeatedly called, texted. After we broke up. After you raped me. 

Neither do I. That’s why I write.

I still write; to rid myself of you.

You think you’re the one who’s afraid of scaring me away?

I know. I was scared of walking away from you.

I’m terrified you’re the one who’s going to get fed up with
me and just walk out. 

You made my dim world pitch black. I walked in the light.

Nick, I am so completely in love with you.

I was so disgusted of you. I fell for something in you
I was too afraid to come back from. 


 I’m scared I’m just going to fuck it all up, because that is what I seem to
be best at. Fucking shit up. 

I am at peace knowing that you fucked up your own life. 

I know you’re not going to read this anytime soon.

You never cared about me or my poetry.

  I’m not about to show you how much I truly love you until
I know you won’t just leave and never come back. 

Did it hurt you when I left?

I bet I never once told you that I had gotten so used to the fact
that I’d be on my own, that I’m still, even now, having to
relearn what it’s like to be part of something with someone, 
having to constantly remind myself that I’m not alone. 

I fell in love with a man who shows me every day that I am
a woman who deserves love were I am never alone.


 I’m not used to having someone as
wonderful as you in my life. 

You were never wonderful. You were only my torture.

You’re not the only one who doesn’t care to open up.

You cemented the thought of carelessness within me. 

 I appreciate you and all you do for me.

I appreciate my family for helping me when I chose to help myself.

What hurts me most of all, is I believe you’re “the one.”

You were the one that I threw away. 

And knowing that every single day,
Kills me a little more. 

Knowing that part of my life;
makes me grateful for the present. 

April 15, 2017: Moments

We are defined by moments
moments that can scare
can die
even can make us fall. 

One crucial moment
bent on rushed fear
closed hand gestures
thoughts
and cruel finger pointing.

Yes, they stare.

Oh, how they stare. 

Silence.
Let's take a moment
to listen to the silence
of those stares. 

See the painting?
Ruthless with class
an elegant piece of art
critiqued by voices
and obnoxious stares. 

Glass shattered...
...scattered. 

April 13, 2017: My Life's Regrets

I regret getting detention
in kindergarten
for chucking wood chips
at the cute boy
who would not stop
calling me names.

I regret feeling
like I was the only
kid in school
born left-handed
thinking I was odd
weird and different
than their "normal." 

I regret allowing my dad
to talk shit
about my brother
to me all the while
my brother was far more brave
than I could ever
hope to be. 

April 12, 2017: Born in the Middle

I may have been born
a middle child
I grew up without
an older brother


He would fade in
and out of family photos
and social gatherings.
Our sister was the spoiled one. 

He left without saying goodbye
I felt this hole --- this void
one I fear I can never fill.

He died from cancer
We all felt his loss
I miss him. 

My sister and I
don't get along
like we used to. 

I regret to see
history repeat itself.