You swallow
and I hear the crack

of waves breaking against rocks,
of lightning splitting trees,
of all my resolve splintering into
a million

You swallow
and my mouth is dry

like sandstorm in Sahara,
like shelter in monsoon season,
like heat unfurling through
every limb,
every sinew,
every cell.

You swallow
and I am so, so thirsty.

You swallow
and I wish I was
tasting you.


Coping Still

And if I had stayed,
I’m not entirely sure where I’d be coming
home to.
If your lap would become rest stop
for my head,
would your fingers travel through my hair
a map made by tangles, the way they did
the first night I kissed you?

Were we really like that once?

And if I had stayed,
would that home be welcoming?
Would I not miss you the way I do now,
except be physically closer?
Would you leave the sound of lasers and
boss levels to stay with me until I slept?

But I didn’t stay.
And lately I miss you more than less.
But I don’t regret leaving,
because in the process,
I reclaimed myself.

So I’ll stay lonely.
And the questions can remain unanswered.
It hurts, but it’s truly for the best.

It only took me 22 to years to not fear.

If you were the person I need you to be, you would be here now. I would tell you how they burned down a mosque in Texas and that my heart is breaking and what I believe and those who stand for it are the same people who burnt down a place of worship.

See, if you were the person God wanted for me, I would tell you how I know I’m not meant to have children anytime soon because I refuse to raise babies in a time where this man is our president.

If you were the person that I dreamed you up to be, you would tell me everything that could calm me down and maybe you’d believe in prayer for a second and pray for this place with me, pray for our nation and this devastating power that has it seized.

Prayer for our leader to be surrounded by Godly men and women, pray for him to know Christ and how the God I worship is a God of peace. How my God does not shun those who leave but calls them back and welcomes them with open arms, freely.

This is not a love poem.

This is an outcry of me wanting to make a change in a world where injustice is happening right inside our doors and I have no power to do anything.

If you were the man I fell in love with three years ago…That’s not even correct. More and more as I draw closer to God, as I rever being alone, I realize who I fell in love with was only a dream. I felt heartbreak at the thought of being lonely & you left me and there was nobody.

And yes I wrote it out. And yes there was so much on the point of obsession and yes, I don’t 100% regret it, because it was coping, because it made me who I am, even if I still fall for the same kind of man.

But you see, I am alone right now. I am breaking at the thought of our country’s future and yet I am dreaming and chasing goals that I can reach without the distraction of you and know that He will take care of me.

As tragedy strikes and you’re not here to calm the nerves, I know, more than ever, I’m where God wants me and needs me to be.


-that I might get over three years ago; wrong time, right place 

-that I could easily get over the memory

-that I’d stop thinking “what if” when you’ve forgotten about me

-to not bruise so quickly

-to be taken care OF

-to have a mutual, reciprocated same kind of love

-that I didn’t get attached so easily

-for arms that are long enough to wrap around me

-for these arms to stay

-for none of the people hinted at in this poem to be the ones that take away the aches

Sunlight Sedation

It is the way
you kissed my palms
like they had been holding
all of your oxygen
for the last two months;
pulling up the hem of my T-shirt
and reminding my stomach
with your mouth
how worthy it is
of worship,
of mercy.

You will never be
a new religion to me:
but rather a louder way to love.
You will be my reminder
of daily grace.

Because as your lips met my skin,
my eyes were wrinkling themselves
into two old maids
laughing in rockers
on the front porch of
their country house in the summer.
Two windows
squinted like they were staring
at the sun.,
not caring if they were blinded
in happiness.

Like love never left;
like the splinters of hurt and
regret remained in my heart
only so
when the time was right,
I could re-make them into a door jam.

It’s like saying your name,
missing how much
my lips
pursed at the “shh”,
and now, not wanting
to be quiet
about this.

Bless this Reptilian Skin

“In seven years,
 you will not exist on my body.
Bless this reptilian skin.
Bless each ash stuck
to the feathers of this woman.

I will not slander your name,
but in seven years time
someone will shake me
of the phrases 
you caged me in.
In seven years time,
I will have said my own name
so many times,
that I won’t remember the way
your mouth formed around it.

In seven years time,
I will forgive my nakedness.
In seven years time,
the only thing worthy
of being near my lips
will be Chapstick.

In seven years time,
you will no longer
on this skin.
In seven years time,
through God’s grace,
I will be my own