These poems are all works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. Some are inspired by exercises for my writing group, The Inky Path, and our amazing promptress, Jena Schwartz, most come to me in the middle of the night, demanding to be written down and realized. Regardless, they are usually unedited and unscripted, super loose, and easily some of my favorite works. They are perfect in their imperfections and I hope you enjoy.

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This love loosens sockets as it crawls through my blood, makes my elbows moot, and arms brown sinew to wrap you triple times in the heat of my desire

Catastrophic and apocalyptic and any other world-shattering -ics, this love crushes dynasties and leaves in its wake little more than smoldering rubble and ash

Proud and cocky, and let-me-hold-your-hand-in-the-street-so-everyone-knows-we’re-coupled-up-and-feeling-all-kinds-of-ways-that-make-no-sense-to-anyone-but-us, this love struts a mean staccato beat

And keeps me up at night, whispering poetry into my skin as Coltrane burns a rhythm of blues, and tenderness, and smooth soulful bliss into our everything

This love wakes the dead, and fills them with crave and lust for another go at this thing called life, and it says ‘this thing called life’ in its best Prince voice

Raucous and wild and so in-your-face loud, the neighbors roll their eyes when they see us pass, laden with the detritus of the everyday mundane, this love knows we are anything but

Beautiful and strange, kind and coarse, this love is memory and time

It is patience

It is you

Continents breathe life
into these
These feet know the stain
of red Georgia clay and
the sting of an angry fire ant
These hands grind
and clap a mean Bhangra beat
This smile recalls my mommy
my brow belongs to daddy
I am their wildest diaspora



that man sitting across from me
eating his trail mix
with popcorn and chocolate chips
from a zip lock bag
he pulled from his wife’s purse
goodness he is difficult to look at
how has that tiny woman
shared a bed with him for all of
the years of their togetherness?
because they’ve been together forever
that much is obvious
and even though I should,
I cannot stop staring
while the men down the aisle
wearing their camo cargo shorts,
flip flops and snarky t-shirts,
with their bald heads, reading glasses and soft bellies –
tell-tale signs of middle age they believe
their sartorial choices hide – won’t shut up
all of us can hear every detail of
their inane conversation
whether we want to or not
and sitting on the cusp
of delay number two
we do not
thank the gods the guy next to me
with his good spirited dog tattoo
and his Gucci Mane memoir
with a chapter called The So Icey Boyz
and the couple across from me
sharing a buttered bagel and coffee
while they send texts on their cell phones
and seem so together yet so apart
are quiet
and considerate
and respect the early-morning hour
by speaking in hushed tones or not at all
not that I would say anything if they didn’t
I would simply get up
grab my carry-on and my laptop
and my half-drunk too-weak
airport latte
and walk to the other side of the lounge
to find more folks to write about



I was a childhood of
too many so many
your house smells funny
you eat with your hands
you worship cows

I was a childhood of
denial and wishes
I could blend in easier
have straighter hair
wake up to wisp-like thighs

I was a childhood of
wants and needs
couched in the solace
of others’ opinions

I am a woman
who knows
there is enviable magic
in this beautiful
brown skin

my scent is an amalgam
of spices ground by my mother
sifted by my aunties
blessed by my amachi

I am a woman
who needs the
acceptance and approval
of none

I am a woman
who knows
love and
wonder and

kissing couple


Can you love me like you did
the first time we kissed
in that pressed against the wall,
breath stolen, full of surprise
kind of way, or is that why memory exists?

To tamp down sudden romantic gestures and
fits of fancy, remind you to proceed with caution
lest she break your heart or steal your soul while you sleep,
to build walls and keep her at bay – but did you
know tree-climbing was her favorite childhood sport
so your wall means nothing, she will try and scale it –
to protect yourself from her everything when
she might be your saving grace?

Can you love me like you did
the first time we kissed?
Then can you love me
all over again?



These are days of sensual living
as the fan circles overhead
moving warm air
full of honeysuckles and lemons
against our skin
cooling the sweat of our union
a soft kiss to calm our fire
as we resist untangling
arms and legs and bodies
instead making best efforts to slip inside
one another’s skin and taste each other

These are days of sensual living
the kitchen alive with pops and sizzles
as you pour batter into the cast iron
the coffee brews
bacon crisps
and the room is awash in a sea
of mouthwatering decadence
my mind focused on that
first warm bite
of fluffy perfection lathered in butter
and just a hint of maple
you roll your eyes at my pedestrian tastes
but i’m a down south girl
and that’s how we do

These are days of sensual living
city streets abuzz with that first hint of summer
lives lived outdoors
in the sun
under a blue sky
after months of cold grey apartment-dwelling
the café bustles as coffee-drinkers
adventurous tourists
harried moms
rub elbows with regulars
all vying for a table outside
a latte
some pastries
and amongst this chaos
you and I sit quietly together
each in our own world and yet
so very present to the other
I feel you watch me as I type
I cannot help but follow you
as you refill your coffee
you touch my back in passing
I catch your eye and smile
the quietest moments
leave us so very alive

These are days of sensual living
the dark of night a blanket for our weary souls
as we lie wrapped around each other
hushed by the enormity of our togetherness
bewildered by each other’s perfection
in awe of us
your touch
my sigh
our bodies
everything about we two made for this moment
all of our heartbreak and despair
our accomplishments and accolades
every piece that makes our whole
jigsaws into this new reality
I love all of you
the good bad ugly
you adore my worst selves
we are each other’s
forever ever
as bizarre and preposterous as that might sound
it is our truth
we own it

These are days of sensual living
oh yes, my love, they are



let’s be enemies
the kind who see each other
across the room
and look away
with a huff and a sneer

the couple who sits
at a most intimate
table for two
eating a meal of decadence
without speaking a word

the girls in high school
who spread lies and nastiness
spit drama and cut eyes
while demanding
of their friends:
me or her

the politicians
caught up in a war of
words and ideology
incapable of acting in the
greater good
when ego and hubris
make for much sexier
dance partners

the dog
off her leash
rolling in the grass
happy to escape
the confines of the apartment

the writer steeped in the solitude
of a block
waiting for words
that rest on the precipice
of becoming reality
incapable of coaxing much more
than blank pages

the boy so sure of himself
until she crosses his path
all wide eyes and seduction
confidence and freedom
making him feel the need
to spit a few words of judgment
and put her in her place

the addict and her fix
alone in a dank stairwell
the burst of flame
the prick of the needle
and oblivion
all for a fucked up devil’s dance
between life and death

the boy and the girl
full of kisses and laughter
who believed in always
and happily ever after
until one day with a start
gaze upon each other
to find nothing more than
what-ifs and regret

Let’s be enemies
the kind who see each other
across the room
and look away
with a huff and a sneer


let’s reconsider
let’s remember
love and wonder and light
touch and breath and sigh
let’s dance in the woods
let’s sing off-key
wrapped around each other
awash in our togetherness
enemies forever

*inspired by Maurice Sendak




I am like a
vine untethered
there is no retreat
from the pain
you unleashed

I blow
whichever way
the wind takes me
caring less for
the who where what how
desperate for distraction


They gather
collecting the parts
I pretend do not exist
the hacked up bits of my heart
my bloody entrails
my eviscerated soul

They push
it all back
inside my skin
reaching deep and
moving things just so
unafraid of what they might find
the gore the ghastly the grisled remains
certain in their task
to love up on one of theirs
and make her whole

my Girl Gang

who listens as I cry
in the candlelit kitchen
over wine and whiskey
and more hummus than
one soul should ever ingest
then quietly insists
you could never handle me
I ran circles around you
you were not worthy

who types me a note
that my poetry makes
her heart hurt
and she hates you
but loves my words
then smirks and admits
she googled you
because she knew I would not
ever dream of doing
such a thing
and you are a liar
of this she is certain

who calls me
late at night
even though she knows
I hate the phone
to say she loves me
even if you do not
and that I will find another
more wondrous
more deserving
you were a mere
stepping stone
in this new path
called my
second act

who swings by my house
a car load of kids
bottles of liquor
and laughter on her tongue
fuck his UWS ass
you hate that
part of town anyway
he likes girls
childlike things to
play house with
and you my love
are 1000% woman

who watches all this
play out
without much to say
because she has never
been one to intrude
then one morning
out of the blue
whispers across the miles
that you might love me
this she believes
because she met you
and watched you
watch me
but you are not
my great love
because that man
will know
never ever ever
to let me go

and slowly
bit by bit
I laugh and I joke
and I return
to me
but on the mend
stronger and more certain
than I could ever
think possible

and I realize
I was wrong
there is a
from the
fuckery of you
it’s called my girls
they are my gang
and in case
you wondered
they will
cut a bitch



This place is made of warm city evenings
full of wonder and surprise
sidewalks teemed with passersby
shedding the skin of the daily grind
buildings stretched to touch a sky grown
deep and soft pregnant with stars
and a bench
some whiskey
good conversation

This place thrums with the excitement
of warm breath
feather-soft touch
barely-there graze of skin on skin
secret places longing for discovery
sighs caught in throats clamped shut in the
silent bloom of ecstasy

This place holds peals of riotous laughter
in a dark kitchen cradled in the crux of a quiet suburban night
where streetlights soften the glare
of half-lived lives centered around PTA meetings and soccer and despair
all ignored and exchanged and never-existed
in this life of sex and words and deadlines and
all-consuming passion

This place remembered hours upon hours
of wondering where it came off the rails
and landed in a cesspool of incessant chatter and
imaginary but oh-so-real
cocaine-addled lesbian love affairs
because women were the enemy when really
the true killer came dressed in a bespoke suit
talked a fast game and knew his way
around a girl’s body and mind

This place burns with the slow drag of fingertips
across lips parted in a sigh full of longing and desire
where lust slips down thighs wet with kisses bruised and bitten
touch is like fire
skin scorched and aflame
bodies slide along ridges and planes to fit perfectly
into curves and hollows
pussy so swollen and wet and waiting to be
tasted and teased and
sucked and fucked

This place fled undercover of the night
before judgment came calling to reap what was sowed when
the rediscovery of wolves resulted in a run toward freedom and
away from the madness of bad choices and youth and maybe-love
but really hot sex
because what else was life if not about second-chances
or so said the fortune cookie pried open and read
that last night of shared takeout

This place feels sacred and reverent in the slow undulations
of hips and thighs wrapped around sweat-soaked
craven souls desperate for everything
each and every ounce of blood and cum and tears
soaked into skin so fair and so brown and what contrasts
come into play when the heart wants what
reality cannot comprehend much less permit
as the day-to-day has no understanding of
maddening intense must-have-you nows forever always

This place lies in repose
as if awaiting the redux
afternoons in a cafe
subway rides of shared private jokes
banter-filled mornings with pancakes and coffee and sex
kisses everywhere anywhere
all the while wondering
whether those moments mattered at all or maybe
they were one-sided and unrequited and all of the
I love yous and persistent aches and retellings of
Plato’s theory on soul mates was never meant
to be more than mere pillow talk

This place is soft and vulnerable and open
in ways most have never taken time to learn
lesser have quaked and faltered
assuming cold twisted black yet
hidden within the dark spaces buried deep behind walls
of snark and cutting commentary
down mysterious paths
pressed into cracks and fissures
lies untold warmth and laughter and light
rapturous passion
waiting to wrap around another
that other
the one

This place is simple and true
demanding and raw
brimming with despair
in the face of unfathomable silence
yet prideful and self-loving and
utterly uncompromising

This place is called my heart
there’s a seat for you
across from me
I’m saving it

3916778790761b9412e631e6056fbbe8 (1)


what if
you were the kind of man
who took one look at me
and knew
right then and there
I had to be yours

what if
I was the kind of woman
who invited you into my bed
that first night
and then demanded
all of you
for myself

what if
your were the kind of man
who listened to my breath
as I slept next to you
and understood
you needed that soft sweetness
played on repeat
the remainder of your days

what if
I was the kind of woman
who watched you
move around my kitchen
interact with my friends
become part of my life
and served you an ultimatum
right then and there
me or her

what if
you were the kind of man
who touched my skin
held my hand
kissed my mouth
pulled me close
and never ever ever
let me go

what if
I was the kind of woman
who didn’t fall for
pretty words
falling from the lips
of a beautiful soul
and instead rolled my eyes
and told you to
keep it moving

what if
you were the kind of man
who decided I matter
more than most anyone else
who couldn’t bear
my sadness or tears
who loved me desperately
and would go to great lengths
to prove it

what if
I was the kind of woman
who didn’t love hard and fierce
and true
who kept you at a distance
made you feel second-best
who didn’t make time for you
no matter what

what if
you were the kind of man
who knew more than anything
you wanted me
wrapped around you
and made that happen
before I slipped away

what if
I was the kind of woman
who listened to her gut
and the soul-crushing
message it whispered
into her darkest parts
and stopped answering
your emails and texts
leaving you awash
in silence

what if
you were the kind of man
full of action and will
who burned with a desire
to own me
mind body soul
regardless of others
who needed to wake every morning
lying next to me
and then made that conviction

what if
I was the kind of woman
who never let you in
kept you on the periphery
relegated you to lesser importance
never quite first
always second-best

if you were that man
I would fall for you
a hundred lifetimes over

I would never
be that woman

If you were that man
actions would speak
louder than words

I would never
be that woman

If you were that man
I would already be yours

I am
not that woman

Are you that man?


when you lie awake in the deep of night
do you remember
the curve of my hip
as you dragged your fingers
along my skin

when you lie awake in the deep of night
does the timbre of my voice
the soft consonants and
drawn out vowels
curve around your fantasies

when you lie awake in the deep of night
can you feel my breath
whispered along your skin
as you recall
my mouth pressed to your throat

when you lie awake in the deep of night
are you stilled by thoughts
of the sweat of our bodies
as we wrapped around
each other
sexed up and satisfied

when you lie awake in the deep of night
does my absence
haunt the dark spaces of your soul
those places only I know exist
those places only I inhabit

when you lie awake in the deep of night
do you wish me by your side
my laughter in your ears
my sighs belonging to you

when you lie awake at night
do you promise yourself
to come for me soon
find me love me
hold me close
for all of our forever evers

when you lie awake at night
do you think of me
my smile my eyes my lips my skin
because all I do
every moment every second
of every day
is think of you



A note to my sixteen year old self
that hyped-up being
full of wonder and angst
passion and enthusiasm
mind-boggling naiveté

Trust me, Georgia peach

Fuck adulting
it sucks

I know your Duran Duran-loving ass
isn’t going to listen to a word I have to say
because you believe
by age twenty-five you’ll live in a huge Soho loft
have fabulous friends
and date sinfully gorgeous boys
because you’re just that damned special

But trust me, little girl

Fuck adulting
it sucks

I know your pompous
too fucking smart for your own good
Barnard ass
is eager to graduate
because there’s a bigger world beyond those gates
just waiting to embrace you
and celebrate you
and hear you roar in all your fierce womanhood.

But trust me, Seven Sister

Fuck adulting
it sucks

I know being unemployed hurts
and parental threats loom
and suddenly there is law school
and stifling conservatism
and the Socratic Method
But slow down, hot stuff
just for a second
and smell the torts
revel in the hearsay
estop yourself
because the job market is weak
and ain’t nothing sexy about
billable hours and face-time

So trust me, masalamama

Fuck adulting
it sucks

It’s freedom
but it’s also
financial burdens
family strife
savings accounts
long nights
too-short vacations
car notes
not enough me-time
little league
too much job
not enough writing

So yeah
like I was saying

Trust me

Fuck adulting
it sucks.



whatever happened to
sexy as fuck
Terrence Trent D’Arby
with the scratchy low voice
that made you think
all kinds of dirty things
the pretty eyes
that melted panties
and the dance moves
that let you know
he knew every way
to satisfy a lover
is he somewhere
tossing pennies into
a wishing well
dreaming of a long-lasting career
did someone sign their name
across his heart
then crush it to pieces
does he wish
he lived up to the hype
and became more than a
two-hit wonder
or is he somewhere laughing
as he collects his royalty checks
wondering when motherfuckers
will stop wondering about him



sleep tight
stay on your side of the bed
he smirked
I bite



until you can remember
kind words
sweet sounds
please also refrain
from remembering me



“Have you seen the mangoes?”
this evening
my auntie
caught me
off-guard with her iPhone
a well-placed smile
and a gleam in her eye
and before I knew it
I was taking a tour of
my Amachi’s house in India
feeling eight years old again
running down the back steps
past the jack fruit tree
the coconut palm
and the fresh-water well
straight for the cow shed
and an afternoon of
playing war
with my cousins

only the jack fruit tree has since been replanted
the coconut is no more
and between the well and the cow shed
is a fancy shed
much bigger and more modern
housing what
I don’t know
but I can tell you
it looks more spacious and better maintained
than some of the apartments
my friends have in Manhattan

next up was my Amachi’s bedroom
with her books
her vanity
and her bible
because only by the grace
of God did any of us
greet the morning
so you better show thanks
next door
my Achan
rest his soul
especially now that his bedroom
has been turned into
the girls’ room
the space for my mom
and her twin to rest their heads
when they come to visit
and want to be close
to their mom

the veranda looks different
and yet exactly the same
sprawling inviting familial
and as Auntie panned the space
I recalled a photo of me
lying on my uncle’s chest
in that comfy outdoor recliner
fast asleep in the Indian heat
further left
those chairs
the trio in white
I can still see my mom
and my aunts
watching us play late into the night
while the tree frogs called out
and the geckos scampered about
I wonder who sits there these days

then back to the kitchen
and my Amachi’s face
both so old and beautiful
wise and worn
neither requiring much upgrading
both forever functioning
as the perfect centerpiece
to our family
this home
my childhood memories

“Have you seen the mangoes?”
I have auntie
and they are lovely



I’m sitting in my dark kitchen
Rihanna’s playing in the background
“man, fuck your pride”
god, I love her
and I’m thinking how I really should be wearing my glasses
but fuck it
and it’s a warm night
even though I know tomorrow will bring back the chill
tonight is perfect
and I love the house when the heat isn’t running
and we get to hear all of its creaks and groans
I have a lemony herb taste on my tongue
after snacking on some Mediterranean sweet potato chips
that claim to be healthy
but nothing that yummy is good for you
and damn my butt is big
but I kind of like it
being the rare Indian girl with a round curvy bum
and wow
the rain stopped



I just want to
crawl into bed
wrap myself
around you
and get lost



I know what I want to do
and what I do not want to do

The want goes something like
wrapping myself around you
burying my face in your neck
inhaling your essence

The don’t want
is this moment
full of realization and understanding
I woke up with it
nipping at my ankles
gnawing at my gut
urging me to do
what you will not

Stand on the precipice
look over the edge
jump into oblivion
without you

Goodbye lover



brush your lips
so close
our breath commingles
my lips part
and I’m a little undone by your tease

cup my cheek
pull me near
as you listen to my rapid breath
and lick my lip
just a taste

touch me

whisper in my ear
all kinds of dirty shit
taste me
learn me
make me moan
with your discovery
as our tongues dance
wrapped around each other
deep and full of lust

kiss me proper
leave me smiling
love me fierce



hours days weeks
pass as we go about
the business of being you and me
with shared notes and tiny tendernesses
tossed about here and there
I’m thinking of you
hey sexy
you are beautiful
so many words words words
between us
as we rush
through the madness
of life
fast faster fastest
making the most of ourselves
giving it our all
going for broke
until the moment
we walk into that room
strip each other naked
devour each other
body mind soul
I want that moment
that clarity
when nothing matters
but you me us
desire hunger lust
I’m waiting
I’m here
crash into me



Last night I walked the city streets
the click-clack of my boots
commingling with the cacophony
of my mind
when I caught sight of you
up ahead in silhouette
you glanced at the sky
I followed your stare
and for that Moment that second
we were Moonstruck
and I wondered if you too
got a little lost
in the memories of our Magic
the sighs gasps touches
the need desire lust
the brush of lips
so light and barely there
the smolder of our
craving and connection
your whispers my moans
our language of sex and fire and unholy obsession
the wonder of us
the Magnality of love



my name was written on
a piece of paper
that fell out of her purse
as she got out of the
West 4th street subway station
coming from Brooklyn
on the C train
got stuck on a skateboard
cruising up 6th ave
blew down 29th street
past the hipsters at The Ace Hotel
the gorgeous bartenders
at The Breslin
got stuck on a
French bulldog’s paw
then slipped into
a sidewalk crack
only to get picked up
and tossed about
on an uptown breeze
headed for Lincoln Center
Barnes & Noble
(it’s still open?!)
and that chino Latino
spot on the corner
of 103rd and Broadway
before finally coming to rest
atop the Diana Center
Barnard College
Morningside Heights
my name is written on
these city streets



I am mouthy
words tumble out
before I can stop them
words spew forth
without care or concern
until I catch sight of you
and then I am rendered speechless
You are gorgeous






Shall we leave this to chance
hope that somehow
in this city of speed and power
fast and faster
have and have-more
we cross paths
and say hi
Because the fact remains
some boy I don’t know
getting in my space
vying for my attention
is more likely to get an eye roll
than a hello
And the fact remains
we hardly lead
the sort of lives that would ever cross
So fuck serendipity
it’s some bullshit
made for romcoms
and girls with hearts and stars in their eyes
My heart is black
and my eyes hardly twinkle
I couldn’t tell you the last worthwhile romcom
and serendipity
is little more than a pretty word
that rolls off the tongue all sexy and shit
Find me online
Message me
Text me
It’s hardly alluring
but it’s convenient
and come on
be real
in this city of so many
too many
not enough
Serendipity is always getting the last laugh
Let’s tell her to fuck off
and make US happen




During the blackest of night
the quietest of early morn
the words arrive fast furious demanding
They scramble over each other
like small children
with arms and legs akimbo
fighting for attention
needing to be seen heard revered
I ponder them as they spill forth
my page covered in magic
and I smile
as I think of you
and the night we lay next to each other
you deep in my words
me lost in my head
I turned your way
to catch your smile
full of quiet wonder and mirth
What? I whispered
you kissed me and smirked
The small hours suit you
your mysterious reply
and now as I write
in the dark solitude
of my haven
I hear your voice again
and cannot help but smile
the small hours suit me
as do you



Your words
today so full of
urgency and need
care and concern
with an underlying dose of genuine
where yesterday
and all of our other days
they arrived in my lap
cloaked in snark and sarcasm
detached and distant
kind yet cold

Are you sick?
Am I to learn you are dying?
Will you finally
be leaving my side?

Or have you come to accept
that despite your resistance
your insistence you would never
the fact remains you have
without warning
fallen for me




If this is goodbye
fill me
with pretty words
kiss me
hard and deep
then let me go
Don’t half-ass that shit




She contained miles of stars
stunning waterways
jaw-dropping mountains
meandering paths
all waiting to be discovered

He grabbed a map
bought a new compass
rolled up his sleeping bag
and set out on the
adventure of a lifetime



purple hair
I want it something fierce
it screams
I need that in my life
that and some purple hair



He’ll brush his lips
across that spot on your throat
as he slips the coat from your shoulders
hangs it on the back of your chair
and orders you a Macallan 15

He’ll smile and lean close
his warm breath on your ear
as he tells you all the dirty things
he’s going to do to your body
then seamlessly segue into a discussion
on random theories of astrophysics

He’ll say lets get out of here
wrap his fingers around yours
and steal you away
just to have you pressed against a car
two seconds later
breath hitched panties soaked

He’ll strip you naked and fold your clothes in a neat pile
then torture you with his hands his tongue his lips
fucking you stupid before sending you home
blissed out and smiling

The Gentleman
that dichotomous mix of charm and mischief
manners and pure sin

He’ll love you and leave you
pieces of your soul battered and lost
and you’ll smile and say thank you
I don’t ever want to be found



sing dance wallow
weep wander laugh
live gush love
it’s a one shot thing
make it count
be the wild



Write me a romance she said
full of sweeping gestures
and grand statements
bring me to my knees
make me weep
then piece me back together
with a simple
Happily Ever After

What I’ve got for you
is a dark-hearted girl
and an ass of a guy
who fall in love despite themselves
and even though they’re both
horribly annoying and full of fuckery
you’re going to root for them
fall for them
cry for them
adore them
you’re going to become convinced
they’re the most worthy
of all worthy lovers
in the history of loving
Then I’m going to kill them



I seek a greater love
one that wakes me in the morning
with kisses of magic and allure
one that fills my afternoon
with music and light
one that consumes my nights
with craving and mischief
I am love
he whispered
then wrapped me in his 24/7



This morning in the mirror
after flossing and brushing
and washing my face
After patting my skin dry and applying
the Clinique roller ball
that’s cold as fuck
but works magic
on the dark circles around my eyes
After the Oil of Olay moisturizer
with anti-aging serum + sunblock 15
and the brightening eye cream
After the Neutragena powder and NARS blush
the Anatasia brow pencil and Benefit mascara
After running my fingers through my hair
and making it look just the right blend
of messy but chic
I caught sight of myself
stopped and took stock

Good morning, sexy, I said with a smirk
and started my day with a strut in my step

Speak beautiful
love yourself
it matters

fireflies jar field via Pinterest and Oh Hello You Pretty Things Tumblr - cinemascope glow 1960s effect


You mentioned in passing
a love of the absurd
your eyes lit up
your hands moved excitedly
you seemed boyish and alive

And just as quickly
you changed the subject
reined yourself in
and returned to you

That more adult version
the more respectable one

Well here’s the deal
I kind of like your feral side
so I went in search of the absurd
captured it in a glass
put a lid on top
and punched some holes for air

Keep it on your shelf
next to the tomes and treatises
pull it out every so often
and revel in the magic

It’s my gift to you
to keep long after we’ve parted
my smart serious lover
my beautiful wild child



My good time
begins between my ears
that jumble of ideas and thoughts and bullshit
bouncing around
waiting to be heard

Then it travels down
to my lips
full and wide and made for kissing
where it pauses
allowing your ghost of breath
to tease and taste
and tease some more

Before it seeks out my hands
hardly delicate but finely shaped
and made for exploring
your chest
and whatever magic
lurks inside your jeans

And just as you’re getting hard
it hits my tits
begging for your mouth all over me
your hands full of me
as my head tosses back
and I offer you everything

Only to find my hips have taken over
swaying to a delicious beat
that screams fuck me hard
and without restraint
let the good times roll

On into my thighs
trembling with anticipation
as your hands explore and own
my flesh my skin my cry of
don’t stop baby
please don’t stop

Because my ass is grooving
to a beat of its own making
that’s got you hypnotized

So deep that by the time
shit’s headed for my legs
you can’t even move
utterly paralyzed by me
and all of my sexy

As I groove to the rhythm
rolling through me
coursing through my blood
finding a home in my bones
full of sex

My good time
It is so fucking delicious

You’re never gonna
want it to end



bright lights
big city
life lived
at double-time
held onto
my drawl
my y’all
my peach


I’ve never been a sweet girl
rather prickly around the edges
callous at times
cold and closed off
The curse of the introvert
because really
that’s all misunderstanding
and somewhere deep
hidden under the layers
is a nice person
she’s just kind of shy
and doesn’t tolerate idiots

So these days
amidst all the fuckery
and madness
I’ve become more introspective
I’ve crawled into myself
even further than before
It’s a means of protection
survival skill of sorts
a shoring up of the mind
to protect the weaker
heart and soul

And still he persists

I’ve snapped
for no reason at all
disappeared weeks on end
replied to his messages
only to say
yes, I’m alive
now leave me the fuck alone
Unconsciously attempting
to build a wall around myself
But he’s an excellent climber
and manages to penetrate
the most impossible fortresses
offering tiny kindnesses
to warm my cold black heart

Dinner at a favorite restaurant
a hand on the small of my back
rare whiskey though he doesn’t drink
a kiss on the curve of my neck
jokes in an elevator
midnight texts
Tenderness wrapped in small packages
because he knows
it’s easier for me to swallow
Warmth in mini offerings
so I don’t feel
overwhelmed and skittish

He persists
because he knows
that for all my badassery
my don’t-fuck-with-mes
my leave-me-alones
what I really need
here and there
is a little love and tenderness
some kindness and care
and even though
I might never admit it
I’m so thankful
for his incredibly
stubborn heart



good things
come in threes
mind-blowing sex



flat on my face
hands splayed
legs akimbo

that is me
on a regular basis

total klutz
as if my mind
is so far off in the clouds
it forgets to control
my body

movement and thought commingle
in the least graceful manner
missing that chair
stutter-stepping along the sidewalk
catching myself on the stair

pay attention, girlfriend
the universe seems to send a gentle reminder
watch your step, mind the rules

to which I toss my head back and laugh
fuck the rules!

tripping through this game of life
then picking myself back up
is much more fun



I cannot be your experiment
that thing you test and tease
in the search for yourself
trying to determine
whether you can love honestly
whether you are worthy of such
in return
I have told you time and again
you can
you are
it is not my problem
you choose to play deaf



Over the last few weeks
I’ve been quiet
kept to myself
I haven’t seen too many friends
I haven’t chatted about too much
I’ve kept it simple
to the norm
so nothing seems amiss
so no one senses a change
It’s been solitary
almost still
everyone assumes I’m busy
they’re busy
life hustles and bustles and flows

Little do they know
while they’ve been living
their everyday lives
I’ve gathered boxes
I’ve moved things
taped things
tossed things
I’ve coordinated
I’ve wrapped glasses
covered furniture
sealed boxes
I’ve prepared

Because I realized one night
as I sat alone at my laptop
typing furiously in the dark
a whiskey at my side
glasses on the tip of my nose
I only have one life
but I’m lucky enough
to have two acts
And my second act
is going to be fucking stellar
So I took all my savings
my 401K
I contacted a broker
signed those papers
and I made it happen

It takes place
on a small hill
right outside Florence
in a mid-sized villa
with stone floors and wide windows
arched doorways and claw-foot tubs
There’s a bicycle
for easy access to town
and a school
because The Kid needs that education
The pool is small
but functional
same as the vineyard
and the kind souls who care for them
It’s run down and gorgeous
and just waiting
for our love
(I only hope I can find
a handyman)

Act II is in Italian
it’s romantic and beautiful
it’s so very me
And since I hate goodbyes
am horrible at parting ways
I’m going to grab The Kid
and disappear in the still of the night
without a word to any
wrapped in darkness
our laughter and excitement
mingling with the cool spring air
But don’t worry
we’ll call
and invite y’all for dinner
as we scream
through the phone



swish glide swoon
move with the freedom
of weightlessness
escape the limits
of skin bone muscle
swim little boy swim


My first ever poetry reading – please ignore the hands – they will learn to behave in time for my next reading



#TheRoarSessions – ROARING FORTIES

I am horrible
at admitting
personal faults

I am a perfectionist
and have been
for as long as I can recall

It’s exhausting
and lonely
and yet I slog along
in my made up

But today
today I’m going to shake shit up
and throw myself
for a loop
and admit something
quite difficult to embrace

It took me damn near forty years to find my roar

I come from
a line of badasses
women who roared
more often
with more urgency
their entire lives

Women who didn’t
take no for an answer
who claimed their place
stood their ground
and prospered

My mom
lifted me with her words
“you can do anything”
and her belief
I could do anything

My aunts
inspired me
with their acts
their can-do
their oh hell yes

My grandmother
badass to end all badasses
awed me
with her mere existence
her choices
her belief in self
her gangsta

My alma mater
Barnard College
that bastion
of women’s education
that brilliant
patch of green
in Morningside Heights
nurturing young women
teaching us the finer points of badassery
providing us the tools
necessary to survive
this cruel world
then releasing us
with the admonition
to kick ass
and take names

My friends
amazing women
who will fuck you up
at the drop of a hat
then piece you back together
with a caress
and a kiss

My kid
that gorgeous
bundle of brown
with laughter in his voice
and sunshine in his smile
and a soul
older than mine could ever dream
who thinks
I hang the stars

All of this support
and belief
in me and myself

And still
as I struggled
under the weight
of bruised hopes
uncertain realities
deferred dreams


what mattered
and how to
find it
achieve it
make it mine

April 25th
that year
when it happened
that thing my teenage self never believed
my twenties self scoffed at
my thirties self laughed at
and said bring it

I turned forty

We live
in a society
obsessed with youth
where women
are told
from the time
we’re children
“oh god,
eventually you’ll be 40”
as if it’s a sin
a death knell
the end

Let me tell you something
those motherfuckers lied

Forty is the shit

It’s when
everything clicks
your meaning
as a woman
becomes clear
your mind
sheds the bullshit
clears the dust
and sings a new song
full of hope

It’s when
being smart
means weeding
out the nonsense
ridding oneself
of the negative
the soul

It’s when
being skinny
no longer matters
and suddenly
the woman
staring back in the mirror
with her curvier hips
fuller thighs
bigger ass
is goddamned hot

It’s when
is understood
to be a hopeless ideal
something to box
one within its
suffocating confines
a concept
impossible to achieve
and yet
for so many years
the goal

It’s when
I allowed myself
to love freely
have fun
not pay attention
to what society
deems normal
but to do
what feels right
and good
for my body
and my soul
and fuuuuuuuuck yeah
it feels good

It’s when
I remembered
what mattered most
– my imagination
and my words –
I grew some balls
and decided
I was not going to die
the girl
with all the notebooks

It’s when
I let my inner voice soar
that internal rhythm
playing in my head
pounding out a steady beat
guiding my ifs
or buts
my whos
or whys

It’s when I
settled into myself
understood my power
and let her rip

It’s when I
stopped being scared
embraced my inner poet
and unleashed her
[and all of her nasty]
into the ether

It’s Dev and Wyatt
Ryker and Jools
it’s Darby and her lovers
Carter and his evil
Ava and her gangsta
Dutch and his pain
Juma and her light
It’s The Sanctum Trilogy
The Keeper Series
It’s blogging
It’s selling myself
because I believe
I am
that fucking good

It’s romance
it’s raunch
it’s writing all of it
when the need strikes
and knowing
my words matter


It’s finding them
and putting them
out there
for the world
to see


*ORIGINALLY published as part of Jena Schwartz’s Roar Sessions. Dedicated to all the badass women out there, turning forty. You have no idea how good it’s about to be. Embrace it, love it, and keep on with your bad selves.




I need to have you
take you
drink you in
and utterly exhaust myself
in you


#Poesia – HERS

She tossed her head back
and closed her eyes
crinkling them up tight
her face full of mirth
her smile wide
as her hands gesticulated
excitedly in the air
waving about
illuminating some crucial aspect
of her merriment
And it was in that moment
I fell
hard and fast and at her feet
for the millionth time
forever in love
forever hers



#WednesdayFreeWrite – GROCERY

when i was a little Girl
nothing seemed more exciting
than a trip with my mom
to the local winn dixie
Riding on the outside of the cart
as she perused the aisles
searching for each item
on her perfectly penned list
Oh, mom! please can we
and the requests would begin
apple jacks
ice cream sandwiches
peter pan peanut butter
wonder bread
endless pleas for each and every
kind of shitty item
we Could put into
our little brown bodies
refusing to believe
she would
say no
and yet, she did
Every damn time
because she was a firm believer in
natural peanut butter
cracklin’ oat bran
and yogurt
junk in my mom’s world
equated to tang and homemade Rice crispie treats
but i was as stubborn
as she was certain
and so I persisted
for Years
determined to get her to buy some crap
out of winn dixie
she simply started shopping at kroger




I’m going to work
on escaping you
and your magic
and when I do
you’re going to miss me
You’ll tell yourself
you don’t care
because you’re an asshole
like that
but somewhere in your soul
there’s going to be
a blank space
a missing piece
for the rest of your days
and it’s where I’m going to sit




“How did you find me”
in this mad world
of dark hearts
and cold laughter

Where two negatives
make a positive
and opposites attract
yet we’re quite similar
in our love of the absurd
and our need for one another

And if our paths
should diverge
how can I be certain
you will find me again

My smile could crack
my skin could crumble
until all that’s left of me
is a dusty puddle
of memories and whimsy

“I could find you anywhere”
he kissed into my skin
seared into my soul
laughed into our here and now

I could recognize
those big teeth anywhere




He smirked
and his eyes danced
so amused and satisfied
with himself
and us
I paused
aware of him
and the wheels spinning
constantly awhir
What? I asked
a slow grin
working its way
across my lips
He kissed me
and laughed low
our fingers entwined
as he pulled me along
Just follow
he insisted
full of quiet certainty
and I couldn’t help
but abide
These moments
undid me
bound us together
These moments
promised us
everything and more
Let’s go get lost
I whispered
my voice
full of mischief
and desire
And we did
just that

img_2374 (1)


Dear Soul
I met a man
with a growl of a voice
and hands like magic
the sexiest of intellects
and sharpest of wits
His smirk
is a charm
His laugh
sparks butterflies
He touched me
and I ignited
He kissed me
and I fell
It’s over
I’m undone
He will surely
be the death of me
And I welcome
the dark
for it means
I have walked
through his fire



I like you
but I like me more




These blues
begin in my toes
balanced on the edge of
forward movement
and yet

My legs ache
with a yearning
and need
for something new
and lovely
but now’s not the time
for good shit
now’s the time
for some dark fuckery

Moving through my hips
those sexy things
boys wrap their hands around
hold onto
is some gunk
a lingering bullshit
that stews and spits

My pussy
that gorgeous mystery
of sweetness
and honey
clamps down in ire
shouting a warning
“enough already!”
but no one’s listening

a fire sparks
in my belly
but will it be enough
to scorch the sadness

sinew and muscle
wrapped around
a lover’s neck
can’t seem to shake
the feeling
of loss and confusion
and mixed in
for good measure
a little grief

My throat
sensitive as fuck
aware of the slightest touch
feather-light kisses
breath-like caresses
as if to ward off the dread
but it keeps
marching on

parted and full
sometimes in mischief
or maybe lust
but today
yet determined to smile

That funk
that junk
that crap I can’t shake
it’s dark

It reaches my eyes
those mirrors into the soul
and even though
I might laugh and crack a joke
blow a kiss
look deep my lover
past the pseudo
joie de vivre
really get all up in there
and then you’ll see

My deep browns
they’re blue as shit




When I’m alone
and missing you
I read through
random notes
and messages
full of teasing and flirtation
and sometimes
just downright filth
and I get lost in our words
It’s a beautiful adventure



#Poesia – WINDS

I don’t know
if it was the haunting sirens
the foreboding darkness
the eerie quiet
or the howling trees

but since I can recall
gale-force winds
terrify me

Perhaps it is their inherent chaos
their unpredictability
their ability
to eviscerate and demolish
anything in their path
They do not sit
well with my soul

Or maybe it is their bringing of change
their upheaval
their welcoming of the new
subsequent to destroying
all that was cherished and loved
They inspire distress
deep in my bones

And although I don’t miss him at all
with his anger and rage
falsehoods and tall tales
moments like this
when the wind whips
through the spots and spaces
of this old house
crashing shutters and banging doors
waking me
in the middle of the night
heart in my throat
and pulse racing
remind me of the good

When he would smile
and speak low in my ear
as he wrapped his arms around me
pulled me close
and chuckled
forever amused by my
seeming irrational fear
[I have never once
experienced a tornado]
forever willing to
comfort my wind-fearing soul

My protector from
those forces of nature
until he turned on me
and became far more dangerous
than any of those
imagined gusts

And suddenly
the winds hardly
seemed so frightful




Careful what you wish for
this she understood
only too well these days
for how many times
had she mumbled to herself
a simple desire to be left alone
for quiet
for solitude

She had it now
despite the fact
they lived together
in the same house
under the same roof

Gone were the nights
of full lips pressed
to points on skin
hands roaming
tongues tangled
breath hitched
as they fucked each other senseless

Lost were hours
of playing with toys
his tie
as they laughed
and kissed
because it all felt

he slips into bed
around six in the morning
after hours
talking to others
anyone really
who is not her
and from behind
his rough hand
curves around her waist
and cups her breast
while he pushes her panties to the side
and fucks her
“God, you feel good
I love you.”
before slipping away again
to start the process anew

It’s like they are strangers
crossing paths
here and there
and then moving on
having little use
for the other
besides the very base
and animalistic

And this is fine
it happens
but she must admit
she wonders
how far adrift
they can float
before they have gone
too far
to ever return
to each other’s shore

Careful what you wish for
she thinks
because one day
you just might get it


#WednesdayFreeWrite – IMPERFECTION

“You should take your big lips and nose
and go back to the jungle
with the other monkeys”
said my fifth grade classmate
during lunch that day
in front of all the other white kids

I don’t remember if anyone laughed
or got quiet
or shifted uncomfortably
I just remember thinking
how much I hated my nose

By that young age
I was already kind of falling for my lips
full and dark and just kind of nice
when I smiled
but me and my nose
we weren’t on such friendly terms

My classmate wasn’t the only one
to take notice
My brother
loved to bring up my nose
his favorite weapon of choice
whenever we got to brawling
and a war of words broke out

[Lovable asshole that he is
has the same damn nose]

He never invoked my lips
because like I said
they’re kind of nice
and my smile is killer
but that fucking nose…

Years passed
of longing for a different nose
a more perfect specimen
something cute
like my sister’s
something thinner
like Lisa Bonet’s
something pretty
like the white girls

It got so bad
and I was so down about it
that my parents finally relented
and agreed
that if it was so important to me
and I really needed it
to feel good about myself
and see myself as pretty
then upon graduation
from high school
I could do it

I could get a nose job

my little ninth grade self
breathed in relief
Redemption at last
in the form of a scalpel
some scraping
and a whole lot of pain
but fuck it
because after all of that
I would have
what I always wanted

A perfect nose

Then a funny thing happened
life became a series
of voice lessons
horseback riding
learning to drive
sneaking out
smoking weed
applying to college
kissing boys

And suddenly my nose
stopped being my cross to bear
and evolved into
what it was always meant to be
just my nose

And yeah, it’s big
and has a funky bump
that an ex-boyfriend
who was a painter
used to love
mostly because he was an artist
and they love funky shit

And when I smile
it gets even bigger
which kind of drives me nuts
but so what?
I have a fucking killer smile
forget the damn nose

And it’s nothing
anyone would ever call pretty
but it’s got character
and soul
and hella crazy spunk

And after all these years
and all those moments
of kinda hating it
and all of its bigosity
[not a word, I know]
I have to say
these days I look at it
and think to myself

Big Nose
you’re kind of perfect
in all your imperfections


#Poesia – YOU

Your laugh
that teasing sound from somewhere deep
Your touch
gentle yet confident, knowing and certain
Your kiss
demanding, make-me-weak-in-the-knees
Your intellect
vast and curious, full of snark and sex
All of you
the good, bad, and ugly
I crave you like no other
in my center of all centers
core of cores
seeking you when I first wake
delighting in our impossibility
understanding that we, too, shall end



#WednesdayFreeWrite – SOLITUDE

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to touch your soul
hear your heart
kiss your mind

the quiet
wraps itself around us
cocooned in a blanket
of arms

and in those moments
when your breath
leaves lines of heat
along the curves
of my being
your fingers trace
circles of desire
around my breasts
your tongue tastes
the sweetness
of my need
I feel craved

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to admit my shortcomings and insecurities

You hear them
ponder my words
then insist otherwise
because you see me
in ways
I cannot fathom
and would hardly admit

Strength of character
beauty beyond belief
wisdom and wit
and conjugated
different parts
making the whole me
you see

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to read you a poem
laugh at a joke
cry in despair

the comfort
of your presence
both shocks
and soothes me
your smile

Everything that is you
speaks to me
in silence
and wonder
everything that is me
speaks to you
in quiet
and awe
“You are not like the others”
you whisper
and I smile
“No, I am not”

It is in
the solitude of our togetherness
that I am able
to breathe again
and you are able
to learn




I have a bright smile
but a heart of darkness
and it beats
every cold
rhythmic burst
for you
and you alone




#WednesdayFreeWrite – WAKE ME WHEN IT’S OVER

“Wake me when it’s over,” she wrote
our wondrous prompstress
that loving and devoted poet
who guides us
through these days
of writing
offering us a safe space
within which
we confide
sex each other up
that’s my job)

WAKE all of us
from the fear of sharing
possibly full of mistakes
so personal
and unique
that is The Inky Path

Teach ME
to feel confident
in the inner rhythm
that thumps in my heart
beats in my blood
lives in my bones
and fights to make it onto the paper
every time I write
that is The Inky Path

Hold me
in the comfort of strangers
who have so quickly
become family
WHEN I’m at my lowest
foundering on the edges
trying to gather
the pieces of myself
and continue
that is The Inky Path

IT’S a glorious endeavor
this thing we call writing
this beast who burns
within our souls
taking on so many different
shapes and forms
representing our
many and varied selves
coming together
to make this whole
that is The Inky Path

I say it all the time
again and again
OVER and over
I have yet to find such a place
so open and safe
warm and passionate
giving and full of grace
nor such beautiful souls
bursting with creative juju
overflowing with love
imbibing on the sexy of our brilliant union
that is The Inky Path

Wake me when it’s over?
Fuck that shit
I never want to sleep
I just want to live
that is The Inky Path




Strange pilgrims we are
forever butting heads
attempting to eclipse the other
with snark and sarcasm
building walls around our hearts
determined to erect a protective fort
when all we really want
is to curl up in the comfort
of each other


999081_10201500333851474_1708142762_n (1)

#WednesdayFreeWrite – MY ROCK

My rock
walked into my office
one day
with her perfect hair
and string of pearls
speaking in clipped consonants
and proper enunciation
took one look around
and said “Hello,
I’m Emily Thompson.”

My crusty heart
whispered “fuck her and those pearls”
crossed my fingers
and hoped she would keep it moving
because the last thing
I had the time or patience for
was one of “those” types

Emily Thompson
proved to be anything

She cursed like a sailor
ranted like a mad woman
raged like a beast
and made me laugh
like no other
all while wearing those damn pearls
and rocking that goddamned
perfect hair

We danced around each other
for months
feeling the other out
wondering what made the other tick
appreciating the quiet resolve
understanding the need for privacy
thrilling in the love of books
finally letting down our guard
long enough
to realize we were
swimming in a pool
of bizarre commonalities

I’m so glad
I let her in
because these days
hardly anyone gets over my walls
there’s no time
and even less patience
But something about Emily Thompson
got under my skin
and did things to me
few were able

We don’t have to
talk all the time
to understand each other
and know we’re loved
In fact
we don’t have to talk at all
and are perfectly happy
in each other’s presence
the silence both comforting
and calm

She gets me
and that’s rare

She loves me
and at times
that’s fucking unheard of
(I am quite impossible)

She’s my person
my comfort
my rock

and I love her.




These are not sweet girls I create
because I’m sick of reading about sweet girls
the types who need a man to define them
who tamp down their sexuality
to make everyone around them comfortable
who hide their intellect
so as not to seem too aggressive and demanding
Fuck Those Girls
It’s time for a paradigm shift



#WednesdayFreeWrite – MEN AT WORK

Men at work
Men at work
Just this man at work

That’s him
in those horn-rimmed glasses
and that bespoke suit
wearing the shit
out of both

Walking in
like he owns the place
His gaze
fixed on me
His smile
His command

And I’m sold
before he even says hello

We talk
We laugh
We kiss

Then I’m pressed against a wall
dress unzipped
pooled on the floor
at my feet

His breath heats my neck
and his touch
teases those tiny places
begging to be discovered

“You are gorgeous”
he whispers
down my throat
between my breasts
against my pussy

He holds my face
when he kisses me
like I matter
like he wants me to know
I matter

He touches me everywhere
because he knows
I need to be revered

He indulges me
with sweet words
filling me with kindness
and light
and laughter

He pieces me
back together
without me
even realizing
I needed a little tape

His lips
work magic
up and down my body
as he makes me come
again and again
before fucking me blind
and stupid

Leaving me
if just for the moment
one happy girl
lost in world
of sensory overload
where all the fuckery
is forgotten
and all that matters
is me
and him
and us

It’s temporary
and fleeting
but who cares?
for those moments
it’s real
and raw
and fucking sexy as shit
this man
deciding to make me
his serious work



#Poesia – WARMTH

He held my cold hands
in his own
and smirked
“I’ll be right back”
then disappeared
into the crowd
returning with a gleam in his eye
… and hand warmers
“You are a total freak”
I laughed
“Who knows just how to keep you warm”
he replied
then kissed me
And hours later
upon parting
I slipped my hands
into my pockets
and felt his heat



#WednesdayFreeWrite – RUNNING INTO LOVE

Clothes spinning on a rack
The Junkman’s Daughter
Combat boots
Long wild curly hair
Carefree head-tossed-back
not-a-care-in-the-world laughter

He said that was me
when he ran into love
Funny thing is
I don’t even remember that moment

I recall a dress
on a rack
a dirty joke
told under my breath
and then him
suddenly filling my gaze
hitching my breath
unmooring me

Right then and there
an almost shy
request for a date
But who were we kidding?
How shy could you be
when you asked a girl out
before even asking her name?

And that’s when I ran into love
because I knew
he would be like no other

He would know what he wanted (me)
what I wanted (him)
and how to make it happen
He would decide
without hemming and hawing
and asking my opinion
a million and one times
He would fuck me
hard and fast
nice and slow
big-dicking me against that wall
in my kitchen
He would talk dirty and demanding
put me in my place
and take none of my shit
And when I got a little rowdy
he would smack my ass
just so
The perfect mixture
of pleasure and pain
command and obey
dichotomous nirvana
That was him
and me
and us

Running into love
head first
eyes wide open
souls aflame



#Poesia – LOVE

Last night
I roamed the aisles of a bookstore
without a care in the world
touching spines
flipping pages
inhaling the sweetness of the written word
and amid all that divine beauty and wonder
I thought to myself
all of this
It is love


#WednesdayFreeWrite – MAGIC TOUCH

There have been many
in my bed
on my body
trying to capture my soul
but none like him

He is magic
All of him
And he wraps me
In his web of wonder
Every time our paths cross

“I’ll come down”
and before I know it
his warmth is at my side
his gaze that fills me with lust
his smile that charms

and I smile
because I know
he is going to lean close
touch my face
and kiss me
a brush
that leaves me
lips parted
and breathless

I reply
eyes closed
mouth curved in delight

He takes my hand
and we’re headed upstairs
chatting about our days
our meetings
our lives not lived in each other’s presence

Until we’re not

And I’m pressed against the wall
his rough kiss at my throat
his hands on my face
his everything against me

“God, your skin”
he breathes against my curves
as his lips touch and tease
all my spots
he has painstakingly discovered
as my clothes disappear
until all that’s left
is a damp slip of silk
between my thighs

“These are fucking sexy”
he smirks
as his fingers move
over my panties
his gaze never leaving mine
his eyes full of heat and mischief
“and totally worthless”
as he rips them off
tosses them aside
and touches me

“Don’t stop”
I beg
but he doesn’t listen
and flips me around
to face the wall
while he kisses my neck
traces heat down my spine
cups my behind
and I feel him smile into my skin
“Your ass is a crime”

But what he doesn’t understand
will never know
because I will never tell
is that everything
about him
is criminal

The way he smiles

The way he challenges

that has somehow
in this big city
of faceless millions
crossed my path
made my acquaintance
seduced my mind
then charmed off my panties
and fucked me blind

makes my breath catch
my nipples hard
my pussy drip
and gets my world
spinning so fast
I can only close my eyes
and let him do his thing
(and holy shit
can he do his thing)

But I will never
whisper such truths
into his ear
breathe such intimacies
into his skin
kiss such affections
into his soul

I will hold them
for myself
if only
to hold onto
all of his MAGIC
and every single TOUCH
a little longer



#Poesia – DNFWM

All that stood upon her
and was her world
understood she could not be defeated
would not be defeated
and so retreated and regressed
until she rose and shouted for all to hear
Do Not Fuck With Me



#WednesdayFreeWrite – THE BREAK UP

Dear American Spirits in the yellow box (you fucking sexy bastards):

Numerous scientific reports
countless studies
health care professionals
my mom
agree on one thing:
you are a murderer
and I must quit you

But do they know
can they ever understand
the depth of our love
the desire
the need

Are they aware
you are my first thought
when I wake every morning

Do they understand
how you compliment
my other lover
that sexy dark bastard

And shit
you + a glass of bourbon
goddamned fucking heaven

Were they in bed with us
when I fucked that boy
then booted him out
so I could fuck that girl
the next morning

Were they on the phone with us
while I sobbed and raged
and then finally calmed
as my mom relayed
the death of my childhood dog

Were they in that bar with us
as we sang our hearts out
to the Backstreet Boys
“I Want It That Way”
totally off key

Were they up
three nights in a row with us
as I finished my Note
only to have the computer crash
and lose all of my work

Were they by our side
as we battled the bulge
and won the war
to be super skinny
and ultra chic
no matter the cost

Were they around to celebrate with us
when I finally got rid of that guy
the annoying one
who lived off his trust fund
and his good looks
but was dumb as shit

They weren’t
not for one single moment
of any of the moments
that make up the whole
of us
me and you
a girl and her smokes

They don’t understand
and they never will

But see here’s the thing
I just found out
that by some dumb luck
I’m knocked up
and me and The Husband
we’re going to give it a go
try on this thing
called Parenthood

So you and me
we’ve gotta part ways
and I know it’s going to be tough
and shitty
and just all around fucked up
but a girl’s gotta do
what a girl’s gotta do

Take comfort in the knowledge
that I never gave into all that peer pressure
to quit you

I held my ground
and stayed strong
refusing to listen to the facts

Know that this is my decision
and mine alone
no one else
could have made me leave you

And should I make it
to my ninetieth birthday
know that I’ll be back
It’ll be like the old days
(except my ass will sag
and my tits will touch my belly button)
me you and that sexy bottle of bourbon
fucking each other silly

Sincerely and with loads of mad love,
a healthier
fucking gorgeous-skinned



#WednesdayFreeWrite – RESCUE

I would love to rescue you
all the brown kids of the world
the put upon
the pointed at
the discriminated against
the teased

I would love to rescue you
because when I see your faces
and your pain
and your confusion
I recall all of my own
because I too was once upon a time
a put upon
pointed at
discriminated against
brown kid of the world

But the fact remains
I cannot rescue you
so instead
I’m going to give you some tips
to survive this shit
(because it IS shit)
so you can have the last laugh
and come out on top

You matter, you count
Your accent does not deem you less worthy
being different isn’t so bad

Your brown skin is gorgeous
your cultural heritage is a thing of wonder

It’s okay to be a nerd
and hang with your other nerd friends
It’s all right to be the smartest person in class
especially when surrounded by such idiocy

Don’t be embarrassed by your folks
and their ways
Embrace them
and revel in the magic

Collect your comic books and erector sets
your baseball cards and insects

Be different
be weird
be you

Play sports
even if they say brown kids don’t do that
Take acting classes
even if they say you’ll always be type-cast
Write novels
even if they laugh and wonder what story you have to share

Sing laugh dance
then do it all again the next day

Fall for the girl or the boy or both

Let music seep into your bones
and move your soul

Collect words that matter
and hold them close to your heart

If you want to be a doctor or engineer
that’s cool
but if you have dreams that fall
off the beaten track of your parents’ hopes
know that it’s okay
to step off
and chart your own course

Understand the world is full of hate and horror
and sometimes it might be tossed your way
But it means nothing
and the tossers of such swill are small

Love yourself
your beautiful brown self
and know
you will make it
you have to make it
and survive
and thrive
so when the day comes
and you’re not so small anymore
you can turn around
and share this note of survival
with another brown kid
needing some hope

Rock on with your bad selves
brown kids of the world

You don’t need me to rescue you
You got this.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – WHAT MATTERS

What matters 
is that I saw him
dark and dangerous
coiled and ready
to lash out with barbed words
and poison

and yet I persisted
because I knew

What matters
is that I felt his presence
before I heard his voice
and despite his best efforts
he could not help
but wrap himself around me
without touching me at all

and yet I persisted
because I knew

What matters
is that he stayed
and chatted
because most of those things
are foreign to him
but he was willing
and almost eager
to try them with me

and so I persisted
because I knew

What matters
is that I love her
her darkness and charm
full mouth and perfect tits
just as much as I love him
but she was never to be mine
of this I always knew
whereas I am written
all over his soul
no matter his denials
and denouncements

and so I persisted
because I knew

What matters
is that she released me
from her touch
her kiss
her brilliance
her pussy
so I could embrace him
as I was meant to
with arms wrapped around his neck
lips pressed to his throat
skin on skin
legs tangled

and so I persisted
because I knew

What matters
is that his eyes
so full of pain and bitterness
as they catch mine across the room
and his pulse races
at the thought of me
despite his insistence
I am everything he does not need

and because I persisted
this I know

What matters
are his lips
moving up my thigh
as my hands tangle in his hair
and he sighs
because my touch
is everything

What matters
are his hands
yet firm
spreading me wide
as his eyes
and full of desire
claim me as his
with one heated glance
to do with as he will

What matters
are my hands
on his zipper
and my lips
on his waist
as his scent
that is so him and so powerful
engulfs me
while his dick throbs
begging for whatever
I’m willing to offer

What matters
is touching
each other

What matters is
his laughter
so easy and light
released into the darkness
kissed into my soul
a sound so sweet
and one I never dared dream
to hear

What matters
are his secrets
whispered into the night
as I listen
and consider sharing my own
then draw back
and resist
because tonight is his
to unburden himself to me
and know that no matter what
he says
I love him

What matters
is him
until sadly
the ground heaves
reality quakes
and everything we dared trust
is rent asunder
leaving us
with the bitter knowledge
that despite what we foolishly believed
(our love makes us special)
the harsh truth is that
nothing matters at all.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – SONG

There is a Lenny Kravitz song
that opens with a drum roll
and then moves into all kinds of sexy shit
in that narrow hips
leather pants
big dick
rockstar way
that only Lenny can do
and it reminds me of that summer

when I breezed into that store
without really thinking
and you moved into my space
like you knew me
and I started to say
what the fuck
because I’m not the kind of girl
you get all up on
but the words
they just kind of got lost
somewhere in the ether
as I got trapped
in the web of your masculine perfection
and before I knew it

we were at dinner
doing shots
and laughing like we’d known each other forever
when really
all we knew
was that we wanted
to fuck each other stupid
and we fell into your apartment
an amalgam of arms
until I caught my breath
and said “stop”

your hands cupped my ass
my legs wrapped around your waist
our bodies pressed against the wall
heavy breathing
the only sound in the silence
and I wondered why I suddenly became
the girl who didn’t fuck on the first date
when I was always the girl
who did whatever she pleased
and you gathered yourself
and you smiled
because under all that smoldering sex
you were the consummate gentleman

“I’m gonna put on some music
grab yourself a drink”
and just like that
our dance around each other
was back on
without us even knowing it
this time more subtle
and full of seduction
as Lenny and that rhythm
so sexy and quiet
urgent and low
settled in our blood
pooled in our bones
and did things to us

hours of whispered stories
nervous laughter
the touch of my knee
the warmth of your mouth
my fingers on your scars
you on my tattoos
bit by bit
stripped naked
and revealed to one another
brown on black
curves and hard planes
stilled breath
parted lips
drenched pussy
rock hard dick
and in lust.

That was a long time ago
the summer we found each other
when your hands learned
every inch of my body
your mouth devoured me
and you and your beautiful mind
captured my soul
holding a piece of me
hostage forever

We were so young
as we parted back then
still listening to Lenny
laughing about all kinds of forever-evers
and so many
(no one will see
trust me)
little did we know
there would be a late night
and a car
and a knife
because we were young
and in love
and that shit didn’t happen

Until it did.

So yeah
there is a Lenny Kravitz song
that opens with a drum roll
and then moves into all kinds of sexy shit
and it reminds me of that summer
and I fucking hate it.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – VANITY

I run my fingers along the wall
tracing imaginary meaningless shapes
as I make my way upstairs
this new home still such a stranger

I’m unattached to much of my surroundings
having never been the type
to get caught up in the
and most definitely not the why

Which explains how I landed here
in the first place

“I love it,” he said
sounding more like a woman
than I ever could.

“It’s cool,” I replied
unable to share his enthusiasm
but willing to indulge his need.

“Let’s do it,” he glanced my way
touched the inside of my wrist
just so
grazed his full lips
along the curve of my neck.
and I was sold.

Fucking horny slut.
Goddamned sexy bastard.

Now I was here
in all this space
amongst all these people
living this life
of absurd bourgeoise privilege.

Dinner parties
Networking events
Charity functions
Weekday drinks
Sunday champagne
Swim clubs
Lawn clubs
Yacht clubs

Fucking horny slut.
Goddamned sexy bastard.

I grinned to myself
as I reached the top of the stairs
making my way to the most random place in the house
to call my own
despite his good intentions

“It’s all yours,” he led me into the space
and smiled
because he knew I loved windows
and sunlight
and woods
“your own office.”

I kissed him
open-mouthed and deep
eliciting a groan
so masculine and full of desire
as my hands touched all his places
and I fucked him on that desk
and I never once looked around that office.

But this bathroom
with its picture window
and views of the city
its free-standing tub
and open-air shower
its heated tiles
that massage my tired feet
its earthen tones
that calm my frantic mind
its vanity
of stunning design
a piece of art
in a room designed by an artist
this bathroom is MINE.

And he knows it
so he stays away
allowing me to linger in the mirror
after i step from the shower
and stand at that vanity
going through the motions
of preparing myself
for whatever bourgeoise exercise in the bizarre
we have planned.

Except tonight is different.

He’s waiting in the doorway
a smirk curving those full lips
those brown tatted arms
of muscle and sinew
crossed loosely
as he watches me
at the vanity
four beats
before he steps into the room
his heat
stealing my chill
and wrapping me in all kinds of sexy

“This is my room,” I close my eyes and hiss
as his hands slip between my thighs
and his lips leave wet heat along my shoulder
and he laughs
the sound low and full of sex
and I know I’m going to share my room with that gorgeous motherfucker
because I just cannot help myself

“Get up on the vanity,” he commands
as he turns me around
hands on my ass
and lifts
because he knows
just how I like it
and he knows
just how I want it
and he fucks me
hard and fast
dirty and raw
until we’re nothing but a
puddle of each other’s
and we’re closer in those seconds
than any other time of our togetherness.

Fucking horny slut.
Goddamned sexy bastard.

“This is still my room,” I smile the wicked smile of the sated
my eyes closed
enjoying our post-fuck quiet
as he kisses me and grins
“It is most definitely your room, sexy,” he whispers in my ear
his warm breath doing things to me
“but this vanity right here,
it’s got my name written all over it.”

Fucking horny slut.
Goddamned sexy bastard.



#Poesia – SILENCE

I relish silence
crave it
seeking quiet
at the most inopportune moments
finding it difficult
to make connections
meet new souls

It’s both a weapon
and a shield
protecting others
from my caustic tongue
and careless words
safeguarding me
from the norms
and necessities
of social circles and
life’s inanities

“I am an introvert”
when really
I just want stillness
and white light
energy to craft

Plus I hate bullshit
abhor jokes
detest flirting

He loves words
better spoken
than written
especially against the shell of an ear
or the curve of a throat

His growl of a voice
takes them
manipulates them
shapes them
into tools of seduction
wrapping them around my soul
whispering them into my cracks
kissing them into my skin

Even his written notes
demand attention
crying out “read me!”
then respond
and make it verbal diarrhea
because I want to know all
your fears
and toss in a naked picture here and there

He and I
have engaged
in this back and forth
for months
upon words
upon words
so many
too many

And when I ask
“why the fuck am I doing this?”
he scoffs
and brushes aside my trepidation
my need to hold my words close
selfishly to my chest
speaking little
almost nothing
he pulls them from me
begs for them
and I give in
again and again

Because he is fabulous
and wonderful
and holy fuck
he is fire
the kind that ignites you first
from within
a slow burn
that sneaks up
and before you know it
every inch of you is aflame

That is him
and I want all of it
every day
all day

Which makes this silence
his silence
cruel comfort
for an uncomfortable soul
despite the fact
I knew this day would come
it was inevitable
from the first time
we encountered one another
doomed to end
before we began

And yet

His silence saddens
after being so open
and in the now
sharing the mundane
and the amusing
the random tidbit
the offhand remark
to suddenly face this nothing
bores a hole into me
like no other

The girl who craves quiet
no spoken words
hates this
and wants to shout
ask for his words

But I don’t dare
because I get it
the silence
the pullback
the disappearance
we were fucked from the beginning
over before we spoke one word
and even though I knew this
his choice hurts

It’s borne of our impossibility
but also my status quo
so I shall say nothing
write nothing
do nothing
but slip back into my shell
of quiet
no words

and pretend to be the girl who
relishes the silence
craves no words
seeks quiet
all the while
missing him



#WednesdayFreeWrite – TREE

“I am the Lorax
I speak for the tree.”

“That’s not what he says,”
and she laughs
and she’s light
for half a beat of a second.

she even smiles
and unlike other times
she doesn’t falter
when the word crosses her lips.

Instead she bites her pencil
before pointing it at me
and shakes her head
as I sit at my laptop
and sip my coffee
and spill my words on the page.

And for an instant
it almost seems as if trees
and branches
and leaves
don’t evoke horror
and pain
and loss.

I stare at my screen
and wonder when the breakdown will occur
how long will it take
for the hurt
and gnashing
and anger,
as I recall a night
not long ago
full of trepidation
and hope
and love.

A quiet night of exploration.

“I have a tree,”
she had whispered and cried
then pushed my hand away,
“it starts under my breast
and grows up my side
and creeps along my back.
It’s full of thick branches
knotted and gnarled
with black poisonous leaves.
Disgusting and unlovable.”

I had kissed her tears
the salt mingling with the bitter of my shock
as her fingers tangled in my hair
and skimmed my throat
and grazed my breasts
while she sobbed
her truths
of devastating loss
erecting a wall between us
daring me to scale its heights.

But she didn’t know
I lived for a good fight
especially one of the life-altering vein
so when she kept me at bay
and tried to hide her tree
I stepped around her barriers
and snaked my fingers under her shirt
and up her back
teasing the thick trunk
of knot and gnarl
my lips uncovering their story
of burn and char
making a new one
of trust
and patience
and care.

My mouth devoured the poison and black
of those leaves
and my love left them
and new
and green
My tongue traced those branches
around her breast
and over her nipple
beaded with desire
throbbing with lust
and angry
and red,
loving what she believed to be unlovable.

That was then
this was now

I waited for her breakdown
her pain
and anger
to join us this night
but after minutes of her long silence
and curious smirk
I felt her heat up my back
her arms around my waist
and the kiss of her lips on the shell of my ear
as she smiled
and held me close.

“You are the Lorax
and you speak for my tree.
Hold me close
trace my branches
kiss my leaves,”
she sighed,
“rescue me.”




The trouble I didn’t get into
doesn’t even exist
because I did that shit
without thinking twice
and again
and again

He had a wicked grin
and a lopsided nose
and the deepest, sexiest voice
and he knew how to use it


Whispered into all my little cracks and seams
my curves and hollows
Kissed into my skin
Burned into my soul

“If I’m not married when I’m 35
and you’re not either
promise you’ll run away with me

“You will be married
to a skinny little thing
with pale skin and straight blonde hair
and her name will be Grace.”

“Then I shall come looking for you
hunting you down
because I only crave your curves
and brown skin and curly hair.”

“You are such a white boy,” I laughed.

And he grinned
and we looked at the stars in the sky
as we lay on that blanket next to each other
on that hill in the park
in the middle of the night.

And yeah, he had a girlfriend
And umm, maybe I had a boyfriend
but he had that voice
and that grin
and those hands

And he was smart
and troubled
and fine as fuck

And I was young
and brash
and full of desire

So when he called me at 2am
to swing by and pick him up
to drive down to Piedmont Park
and look at the stars

I laughed
and told him to fuck off
then grabbed my car
and sped off into the night
right into his charm
and sex
and god, his mouth

And we spent the night in that park
doing things
and making promises
and then doing more things
that in the light of day
we both denied ever happened

Because he had a girlfriend
and umm, I might have had a boyfriend
But he had those lips
and I had those curves

And we had years of trouble
that we got into
and again
and again



#WednesdayFreeWrite – KNOCK KNOCK

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman you chatted up in the elevator
all those years ago
making her so nervous
because you were older
more sophisticated
and so not her style.
But I liked your eyes
and your voice
and your smile did things to me I wasn’t quite expecting

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman you stutter-stepped on the staircase
in the office
as I walked with that partner
who laughed and cracked a joke
because you’re also a partner and share the same interests
and speak the same language
or do you
because I could swear the whole time he was speaking to you
you were watching me
and I don’t think you heard a damn word he said

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman who spied you down the hall
so far away
and I knew it was you without even really knowing you.
But I could spot your walk anywhere
the way you hold yourself
and stand heads above the crowd
the way your suit drapes your body
and accentuates your easy grace.
It’s captivating
you captivate
and even though I know I should
I cannot stop thinking about you.

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman who’s not so young anymore
definitely not the twenty eight year old who caught your eye
and yet
you stop
and stare
standing amidst a crowd of colleagues
focused on the woman you’ve never worked with
nor spent any significant amount of time in her presence
but crave like a sickness
the woman who makes you nervous
just standing next to you in line
and even though you know you should
you cannot stop thinking about me.

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman who knows what she wants
and at this stage in the game
when she’s confident and ballsy and smelling herself
is willing to take it.
And yeah, I know
I shouldn’t do this
but it’s late at night and hardly anyone is in the office
so relax
and have some fun
and fuck me like you know you’ve been wanting to
for fourteen years straight.

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman standing in front of you with her hands in your hair
as you unzip my pencil skirt
and let it pool at my feet
and cup my ass
and flick.
Off with one garter
and then the other as you run your thumb
across the damp of my utterly useless panties
and I gasp
and you hiss
and we both know we’re fucked.

Knock knock, who’s there?
that woman you fucked
and who fucked you back
and fast
and like you’d never been fucked before.
And I know it’s tough baby
because my ass is fine
and my face is gorgeous
and my lips
fuck, my lips are like heaven
but me and you, we were never going anywhere.
I’m married.
You’re married.
It was all just good fun.
So please
stop knock, knocking.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – FOUR IN THE MORNING

It’s four in the morning. The hour when Madame Angst knits large black sweaters, and blood sugar goes downstairs to putter around in the basement.

The perfect time for all kinds of mischief and madness.

I drum my nails on the marble countertop, the black tips click-clacking to some random rhythm I’m neither in tune with nor paying attention to because I’m much more interested in the hum of her blood. Which isn’t really a hum at all but more of an uh-uh uh-uh uh-uh as her heart pushes it through that chamber of life, out to her fingertips and toenails and everywhere in between.

She glances up from her reading and smiles, totally unaware of my wicked thoughts, my hunger, my need. Oblivious to the fact I could kill her with one bite. Only certain that she loves me and especially loves the fact I have no problem staying awake, up until all hours of the night while she writes and reads and edits, then writes some more until her eyes close under the extreme weight of her exhaustion and I am able to slip into the remaining minutes of darkness and hunt.

But tonight and that smile and that flash of something in her eye makes me think I should put out this cigarette, slip from my bar stool, and crawl onto her lap, which is exactly what I do. She is shocked but silent as I carefully take her notes and her pen and place them on the table next to her coffee and her smokes, then lean close and run my breath along her throat, my lips so close to her warm skin and yet, not close enough.

Uh-uh uh-uh uh-uh, her blood calls to me as she wraps her fingers around my arms and sighs and arches into my touch. “Please,” she whispers and I relent and press a kiss here and then there and then a little higher until our lips find each other and our tongues slash and tangle and uh-uh uh-uh uh-uh, her blood is singing to me, calling me, taunting me, and it happens.

Fangs escape hiding places while hands are teasing nipples and fingers are stroking thighs and bodies are pressing against each other in desperate need and I’m lost in her taste and my hunger and our fire and before I can stop it her tongue finds my secret and everything stops.

Her shirt is open and her hair is wild and her lips are swollen and she is breathing hard as the wheels in her head spin and evaluate and analyze and fucking god she’s sexy when she’s all introspective and shit. And I know that even though I am not what she ever anticipated or expected, I fucking pray I am what she wants, my breasts and lips and smile and wit and fingers and fangs.

Long eternal silent minutes pass.

Uh-uh uh-uh uh-uh, her blood sings, calls, taunts. And I stand on the cliff with my toes hanging over ready to jump into the river of her rejection and swallow my tears and continue my endless life of loneliness and solitude because of course someone like me should never expect anything beyond loneliness and solitude, when she reaches out and grasps me behind my neck and pulls me close, her breath warm on my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair.

“All those four in the mornings and you never once…,” she trails off, her voice full of longing and desire and wonder.

“I always wanted to but I never once dared,” I agreed, “because more than life itself, I love you and all of your four in the mornings.”



#WednesdayFreeWrite – WINDOWS

I said I wouldn’t do re-runs
I didn’t do re-runs
and yet here I was
re-running all over the place

Because the fact remained
he was hot
and I hadn’t seen him in forever
and yeah, I was kinda drunk

So when he asked
“you want to hang sometime”
I didn’t think to say no
or remember what a waste of time
he was last time

I just smiled and said “sure”
because the fact remained
maybe this go ‘round
he wouldn’t be scared
or treat me like I was made of glass

Maybe this go ‘round
he’d pull me to him
and press his full mouth to mine
while his hands slipped under my skirt
and between my legs
because fuck all of that other sweet shit
I wanted something dirty
and raw

“Come by my place around 8.”
And already the night held promise
because he wasn’t being all gentlemanly
and stopping by to pick me up
and he wasn’t asking me what I wanted to do
he was taking charge
making decisions

His place around 8
was really his roof around 9
under a starry sky
five floors above Manhattan’s cacophony
in our own world of tequila shots
dirty jokes
and sexual tension

Lying on a blanket
side by side
shoulders touching
breath hitched
desperate for him to climb all over me
determined not to make the first move

Because I didn’t do re-runs.
But already he was looking like one.

I laced my fingers in his
and turned his way
a mischievous grin curving my lips
and thought to myself
“this motherfucker is finally going to kiss me
and then maybe he’ll grow some balls
and fuck me, too.”

I licked my parted lips
and waited
thinking on all the ways
his long fingers could have their way with me
how his full lips would feel
exploring every curve and ridge of my body
and practically making myself come
as I imagined riding his big, thick dick
under that starry sky.

Of course, none of that happened.
Motherfucker didn’t even kiss me.
He was like a deer caught in the
bright of my desire
and I just couldn’t be bothered anymore.
I was too young to be wasting my time
on limp-dick motherfuckers
who shook in their shoes
every time I came around.

I pushed up from that gorgeous roof
and looked down on his stunning face
and cursed myself for believing
this time would be different
this time he would be man enough
to fuck me like I wanted

He had his chance
three times too many
and now
it was official
I wasn’t playing.
We were done.
That window closed.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – RIPE

Render me senseless with your beautiful words
and delicious mouth
and filthy tongue
make my pulse race with the sexy of your intelligence
and your cutting wit
and your sharp humor

In you I lose myself to touches
and sighs
and otherwordly moans
I find myself surrounded by heat
and lust
and crazy desire

touch me
suck me
fuck me
don’t stop
when I scream
when I writhe
when I come

Envelope me
in the tangled mess that is you and me and us
wrap me in your arms
and legs
and heart
fuck me tonight
own me forever

as I am ripe for the picking
should you decide to make me yours


#WednesdayFreeWrite – RORSCHACH

I saw it and couldn’t see a thing
my mind drew a blank
the word made no sense
evoked no image

I came back to it all day
and still nothing
but frustration and irritation
and everything but what I needed

And I know
she wants us to write anyway
but it would have been nonsensical
or a blank page
and I’m cool with neither

Plus, I made the mistake
of checking out
what others’ produced
just a skim
a peek
a word here a word there
and I knew I was fucked
Because even after cheating
I still didn’t get it
Also, their words were beautiful
and moving
and deep

And me

Rather like my day
all motions
no substance
Perfect performance
with no soul
There’s no piece of me left anywhere
on anything I touched

Come here she whispered
as I unburdened myself
while shedding my bra
and panties
and makeup
Unburdening my body
of the burdens of girliness

But she can’t make it better
with her lips
and her fingers
and her tongue
which I know is her plan
because when I open myself to her
and release my thoughts
my fears
my insecurities
she falls a little harder for me

I think it was a bear
but maybe I only think that
because I fucking cheated
and read other posts

And if I’m being honest
with myself
and others
to my hardly discerning or sophisticated eye
it looks like an amoeba
which also seems like cheating
because duh
every Rorschach looks like an ameoba

I hate shit like this

Why she whispers
slipping behind me
without me knowing
because I was too caught up in castigating myself
and my unsophisticated eye

Her breath ghosts along the blade of my shoulder
and her fingers
where they rest on my hip
and she knows this

And even though I don’t want to be distracted
by her
and her tender touch
and her warm mouth
and her very skilled fingers
She persists
her hands knowing all of my spots

Answer me she insists

And I do
because sometimes it’s nice
to feel her breath in my ear
and her lips on my nipples
and her tongue in my pussy
and other times it’s nice
to bitch and moan
about that fucking Rorschach
that goddamned amoeba




#WednesdayFreeWrite – FIRE ESCAPE

Those guys on the corner of 15th street
and 8th avenue
the ones selling weed and cocaine and ecstasy
and really anything the white kids want
they’re fucking gorgeous
mindblowingly hot
they move like sex
and make me think all kinds of wicked shit
as I sit on my fire escape
and watch them do their dirty

Those women wrapped around each other
under the low street light
Her hand on her hip
and her lips on her throat
pressed against each other
so turned on
They live above me
and later tonight
she’ll be crying
while she’s beating her with whatever she can get her hands on
and I’ll be sitting here on my fire escape
listening to it all

That guy right there
the skinny dude with his hand above his eyes
blocking out the sun
searching the sky
track marks on his arm
I know him
we’re friends and I love him to death
but he’s an addict
and has started shooting up
and I just bought this television
and those books
so I’m going to keep sitting on my fire escape
and pretend I don’t see him

with your long eyelashes
and big eyes
your new haircut and that full mouth
With your fine ass
and washboard abs
Who fought me tooth and nail
because you wanted to paint
and I wanted you out of my space
for two fucking seconds
Come over here
and bring those hands that know my body
and that dick that is all kinds of magic
And let’s hang on my fire escape
and forget everything but each other

Fave tattoo

#WednesdayFreeWrite – MUSEUM

Beginning at my toes
that mark right there
on my left foot
that damn vase from Ikea
did a number on me
because I had to learn the hard way
sometimes it doesn’t pay to be such a cheap bitch

My left ankle
that rose
I was eighteen
and tattoos were still illegal
and he was hot
and had his own spot in the Bronx
Boogie Down, bitches
where he inked folks in the dim light
of his dank apartment
because I needed that mark on my skin
right then and right there

Cross to my right knee
that nasty looking
mess of a keloid
Playing softball
running the bases like a badass
falling like a fool
That rock jutting out of my leg was nasty
this scar is worse
Because when given the option
I was too chicken for stiches

Move to my right hip
that sexy flower
that no one sees
unless I want them to
A hulking biker gave me that one
told me it was going to hurt like a motherfucker
but it was going to make my lover come
And he was right
about both
Because I love having hidden layers of sexy
all over my body

Further north
above my pubic bone
below my belly button
sits that scar of life
My C-section
that all the doctors love to come and admire
because my doctor
badass that she is
gave me a beauty
my scar is perfectly small and almost invisible
Because my hips were too narrow and
he was too big to come out
the other way

My wrists
and arms
bear my truths
Ganesha, my guiding spirit
Meraki, my word to live by
and The Kid at the beach with a mohawk
Because why the fuck not

My clavicle
three stars
my loves
Because they matter

Move to my back
and discover my belief system
whatever happens happens
que sera sera
endho edha
my parents’ tongue
Because that tiny phrase
captures my many selves

And finally my brow
that line cutting through the thick black
screaming “I am here – see me”
and looking a little badass
when I don’t fill it in with makeup
Because once upon a time I was twelve
and refused to listen to my mom
to come inside because it was dark
and instead stayed outside chasing the neighborhood Boxer
as he raced through the night
and slipped under the wire
that caught me so fast
and split my skin so deep
and taught me that sometimes my mom was right
and it was too fucking dark to be outside.

My body, the museum.
A trip worth taking
if I might say so myself.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – THE LIE I BELIEVED

The lie I believed was fed to me by my mother and her sisters and their mother and my alma mater – all of these fierce, brilliant women who claimed I could have it all. As a child I distinctly remember my mother telling me not to listen to those fools who said I must get married, to ignore the idiots who claimed the only way to be a real woman was to have a child, and that it was okay if I wanted a kid without a man, I didn’t have to be married to have the kid. Because you know what – I could do anything, could have it all, could be whatever I wanted to be – nothing mattered. I took that shield of mighty female empowerment and my little Southern ass and stomped up to Barnard, ready to light the world on fire, rage with my woman power, be the mighty girl I was meant to be. And holy shit, Barnard fueled that fire. Don’t call yourself a girl, you’re a woman. And you can do anything. Look at all those women around you, these basasses with tits and pussies, you all fucking rock. You are wondrous and mighty and men will tremble when your name is called. You are stellar examples of womanhood and all it can be. You are Barnard women – now go forth and do you. Ha! Fucking liars. Here’s what I know – yes, I am a badass bitch, do not fuck with me, I will cut you and it will bleed. I am also soft and cuddly and I like to laugh, I love my man, and yes, I even have a kid. I have a job that pays the bills and another that fuels my passion and makes me feel whole, but couldn’t cover any of my bills…yet. And sadly, I cannot have it all. At least not at the same time. It comes in stages, spurts, fits and starts and I just need to be aware and alive and on my shit to catch it and enjoy it because once it’s passed, that chance to do that one aspect of the many that make up “having it all”, it might take a really, really long ass time to come back around.



#WednesdayFreeWrite – CLIMBING THE WALLS

red clay
playing fields
Stone Mountain
I-285/85 interchange
Hartsfield International
Mayor Young
Maynard Jackson
the child murders
Watson Creek
the game ranch
the Klan
horse shows
Snellville day
the Peachtree Plaza
Piedmont Park
Boys and Girls
pine trees
Toyota Corollas
I don’t worship cows
waterslide parks
Six Flags
AP English
tomato sandwiches
sweet tea
horse shows
pickup trucks
the rebel flag
the Braves


climbing the walls

a prompt to write
evoking memories
of a life lived down South


#WednesdayFreeWrite – LOVE OR MONEY

I could hear everything she was thinking
wondering how we arrived at this space
when did this become our reality

She didn’t even like me like that

She’s hot
but she’s a fucking bitch
and she doesn’t have a goddamned job
And I hate the way she smokes in the house
despite the fact I’ve asked her not to a million times

But I like her tits
and the sex is great
so what if we can barely stand each other’s conversation
I can just fuck her and go to work

I heard all of that
and wondered if she knew
if she even cared

And could she also hear me

“babe,” I say with a sexy smile as I smoke my cigarette in our kitchen just to piss her off
“guess what I’m thinking right now.”

She keeps tucking in her shirt
getting ready for her fancy job downtown
the one with all the numbers and suits and dick-waving
the one where she has the biggest dick of them all

Then she finally glances at me for a second
because I’m smoking like the bitch I am
and growls, “I have no idea. I’ve gotta get to work.”

I smile
because she’s leaving the apartment
well sucked and fucked
and totally clueless as to my capability

So she has no idea
that I, too, find her abhorrent
and stick around for a place to live
and because right now I’m not in the mood for random fucks
and in the grand scheme of things
even though sometimes her pussy is kind of stank
she’s got fabulous tits

And she has no idea
when she comes home tonight
from her fucking lame job
I will be so gone
totally out of here
sayonara bitch

This new thing
hearing people’s thoughts and shit
This shit is going to make me rich, bitches



#WednesdayFreeWrite – ONCOMING

There’s that moment
it can happen anywhere
And when it does
it floors you

The way she twists in the bar stool
and orders her drink

The curve of her neck
because you’re watching her from behind
The swell of her hips
that have you thinking of fifty different ways to fuck her blind

Her smile and her laugh
as she chats with the bartender
and you’re thinking, “shit, I should have taken those classes at Columbia”

Then she catches your eye
and busts you staring
and smiles
Because she’s confident like that
and knows what she wants when she wants it

And maybe just maybe
she wants you

But you’re not ready
and there’s no telling if you ever will be
for all of her truths
her honesty
her desire

So you look down at your drink
and pretend you didn’t see her
and the bar empties out
and you’re still sitting there
How does she smell
How does she kiss

You tell yourself not to think like that
Stop it
But her ass
her lips
the curve of her tits

Everything about her is overwhelming
and oncoming
at a speed so fast
you’re blown away
by her and her sex
to the point where all you can focus



#WednesdayFreeWrite – CONVENIENCE

Convenience is walking out my front door at 8:20
hitting the Hundred Steps
which are really 96
but who’s counting
and zipping to the Path

Convenience is the grocery store four blocks away
the other grocery store four blocks in the opposite direction
the mega grocery store down the Viaduct
and the rip-off A&P down the hill

Convenience is the park up the block and overlooking the City
the other park past the grocery store where we played ball
the teeny-tiny park down by Supremo
and the huge, gorgeous park at the end of Webster

Convenience is the little man who dry cleans my clothes
and knows it’s going to take me weeks to pick them up
so he calls me on my cell to remind me

Convenience is the liquor store owner
who also owns the art space
who also helps with Little League and reminds me it’s almost time for sign-ups

Convenience is the pet store on Central Avenue
just a few blocks away
since I kill fish like no other motherfucker around

Convenience is the lady
who threads on Saturdays
in case I don’t have time to see my lady
in the city
during the week

Convenience is my beloved bodega
the one The Husband detests
because he’s convinced it killed our property value
but I love it
because I know all the guys inside
and I know the owner’s wife
and kid
so when it storms and I need an extra bucket
or when I’m a dollar short
he hooks me up

Convenience – and love – are my girls
the women I met and grew to love
my bitches
we’re tight and it’s fierce
and they live right down the block
around the corner
up the hill

Convenience is my past
The suburbs are my present



#Poesia – THAT MAN

He’s waiting in that pool
trying to distract me
with his bedroom eyes
and his lusty smirk
and his hands that know
me better than I know myself

He’ll press his lips
to that spot on my neck
at that time in the morning
when I’m almost awake
but not really
and I’ll come undone
with that touch of wet heat

He’ll lean close
and whisper an inside joke
as we walk into a crowded dinner party
and his mouth
on the shell of my ear
will make my eyes dance
and my pussy drip

He’ll know
when I’m tightly wound
and angry
that’s it not him
and it’s not meant for him
that I can’t help it
I’m pissed
And as I’m raging and ranting
he’ll listen and take it
and then fuck me stupid
against that wall in the hallway

He’ll pay attention
to the details
and know
my eyes are light brown
there are two freckles by my left tit
my serious wounds keloid
I take my bourbon neat
he’ll know small remembereds matter
and he’ll tunnel a thousand of them
straight to my soul

He’ll fuck me in the bathroom
of our favorite bar
wildchild style
like the rockstars we are
(some days)
then two nights later
escort me to the work function
where I’m the keynote speaker
looking chic and stunning
in his bespoke suit
and Ferragamo shoes
as he guides me to our table
his hand resting just so
on the small of my back

He’s waiting in that pool
to fuck me up down and sideways
and make me come
and again
and again
so why the hell
am I still here
talking to you?


#WednesdayFreeWrite – TRESPASS

I wear a pretty big sign
Across my chest
On my forehead
In my eyeballs

Do not trespass
Do not touch

And I don’t think she gives a fuck

I told her she was ugly
And she laughed
I told her she was stupid
And she quoted some random poetry
That left my head spinning

I told her I was made of thorns and nettles
And she put on some gloves
I pushed her
And she pushed me back

I disappeared and found countless others
To sink myself into
All the while
Thinking of her

She is loads of fuckery and trouble
She is too much too fast

She is heat and touch and gentleness
All things I cannot afford
She is light and laughter
And I am a black pit of poison

I told her this
In an effort to save her
And she laughed
And said she was here to save me so bring it

I wear a pretty big sign
Across my chest
On my forehead
In my eyeballs

Do not trespass
Do not touch

And I don’t think she gives a fuck



The grass was high and it waved in the wind
The roads were dirt
and trodden
The rice paddies loomed green and inviting
to cows

Cricket was king
Football too

His father
reigned supreme
above all
and was to be listened to
lest he wanted the switch to the legs
which he received quite often
Despite never wanting it

The family compound was lively
and jovial
and close-knit
with kids and uncles and aunts and dogs and warthogs
until it wasn’t
And his parents took off
for greener pastures
Leaving behind two young boys
in the care of others
Because they lived and breathed the credo
it takes a village
a bit too literally

And studying
always studying
And med school
without question
The seat was already prepped and waiting
His name was already on it

And behind all this living and life and loss and chaos
within and without
was the soothing sound
of the waters

The backwaters.