I was young and didn’t know how to love. I thought love came via obsession If I was tearing my hair out, waiting For that validation For being acknowledged. Wanted. I never could accept I was enough, so I pushed away Destroyed gifts When I found out they cheated, Ecstasy poured through me; I never listened to that stupid…

Do the words dry up With the passing of time and forming of wrinkles My bones getting weaker As my joints sing new songs?  Are they linked to me like the veins in my body  The pounds gathered from many rich meals With those I love?  My brain fires new thoughts, not all of them nice Days wasted away…

(Substitute any of the above three words as you see fit. You’re part of this now.) “Maybe”, it will be like poetry finds me In scraps floating across my dreams, Or at dawn when the world is quiet And waits for me to turn it tangible. “Maybe” I’ll live in the notes of birdsong, Or the barely audible marching…

If anything is to eat me alive Let it not be anger Or fear Or envy Or doubt. Let it not march across my face like wrinkles will, Leeching me away like time never can. Let love eat me alive instead Let me breathe Create And feel Knowing that’s always been enough. An audience of thousands or an audience…

I’m a curated conglomerate A popup museum, vaguely human My exhibits don’t have to mean anything, As long as they draw a crowd. I’ll watch any guru on YouTube Because I don’t trust my intuition I operate on superstition For all the wrong things. You ask me to help others, And I’ll gladly oblige, If I can record it…

I wanted you for this perfect role I had In my head. I kept folding Pushing, pleading, It was the chance of a lifetime if you’d only see It from my side. All of my efforts, all that time, And I’m the one who broke. – Sara Myriad

We found our songbird dead in the kitchen, His body cold on the cage floor Next to the counter where my husband Caressed the lines of my throat with his tongue the night before. I sat at the window overlooking the street and watched not much at all The red flowers clustered inside the windowsill box The sky a…

Coax it with honeyed words Promises of ruin Pray it will emerge, sniff your hand with The delicate timidity of a deer or rabbit Until, satisfied, it stretches open its mouth that suddenly Has too many teeth Take a finger, a hand, my sanity if that’s what you need, I told it I have only one life to get…