I am not a poetBut sometimes I feelLike I should write poetry.
What ever happened to our dorm room dreamsThat we collected in a pile on the carpet-covered concrete floor?The circle of cards…
At the beginning of all of this, I had huge ambitions. I was going to develop a pilot, get a late night packet together, finish…
If I lived in a bubble,It would protect meFrom all the bad in the world
I can’t stop thinkingabout lost time.
I feel like I’m on hold.
The hold music is…Okay.
It broke somewhere betweenthe top of the ladderAnd the bottom.
You’re born third,a punchline to a joke you don’t yet understand.You don’t know yet that you’ll spend the next 25…
I am untangling my thoughtsLike headphones I pulledFrom the bottom of my purse.