Friday, January 1, 2016


And no matter how much I try
I just cannot seem to master the New York accent
Two and a half years and still…Maryland wont let me go
My scarlet letter shows every time I open my mouth.
Will I ever be cool?
These tattoos aren’t getting me the type of guys… who like girls with tattoos.
This isn’t what I was hoping for.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
And when the hell did 26 happen?
Where’s the ring, house and kids that are supposed to be fulfilling my life?
This rented room, doesn’t even count as an apartment.
I should’ve foreseen all of this.
All those school suspensions were for a reason.
I’m a fuck up.
No wonder fuck is my favorite word.
And praying for better is moot.
I can’t pull myself up by my bootstraps,
I’m starting to think that, that’s a requirement.
But I don’t own boots.
Not even Uggs,
This has to be my karma.
But taking my mother away from me was a bit much.
I’m sure I wouldn’t be this much of a fuck up.
I never thought I would be “that” sibling
The one that becomes a screw-up.
And the sad truth is,
I’d rather stay in New York, broke,
Than go back to Maryland.
Where people I don’t even know, will know for certain,
that I am a failure.

January 2nd

I keep disappointing god.
The guilt,
A constant strong hold.
Is this how dad felt with his demons?
And my struggle with coffee has only gotten worse.
I seem to need just as much at 3 a.m as I do at 7.
Tell me I’m just being dramatic,
And that these cigarette butts aren’t the beginning of another
Another romance, with something that can’t hold me at night,
Or kiss my lips,
These... wanting to be kissed lips.
And the swearing has gotten worse
Fuck, is my new favorite word.
So is Jesus Christ,
Jesus Christ, I hate this feeling.
I can’t seem to form a coherent way to describe my emotions.
And its officially January 2nd ,
Which means I wasted the first day of the new year.
Story of my life.

Monday, November 30, 2015

Rented Room

It's the unnecessary of it all
That keeps me up at night,
Thinking oh how big the world seemed at sixteen,
And how excited I was of it all.
The continued bursts of unwelcomed sounds are what make me cry,
Cry at how everything I had hoped to accomplish
Now seems so unattainable.
And all I can think of is, if this is how my mother felt
When she gave up her dreams to be a nurse, to be an unplanned mother?
Twenty-six is quickly turning into thirty.
And my roommates always seem to be their loudest
When I am trying to sleep.

Saturday, October 31, 2015

Rules for the unsophisticated fat girl

Love wasn't always so over rated.
Before circumstances and broken promises,
It was more than sought after,
It was the destination.
But now,
wide smiles and compliments mean trouble.
Avoiding heartbreak and one night stands
have become the goal of Saturday nights out.
No matter how much liquor is consumed
remember to not laugh too loud at jokes from unfunny men.
Never awe like a child at a compliment.
Instead, say thank you.
Your mother would be proud of it.
Remember that no one is looking for monogamy 
in a dark room with music thats playing too loudly.
So when they tell you your beautiful,
hear what they are saying.
And never drink too much,
it will only make you cry later.
You know this.
You do not like this.
And when they look at your breasts and thighs,
do not be offended
but most of all do not think that they are mesmerized.
They want to fuck you.
Nothing more.
And never let them kiss you on the lips.
They will know that they've got you.
But you my dear..
you will have fallen in love.

Friday, September 25, 2015

The Reason Why

The sign was clear.
I asked him to call me, 
but he told me to wait.
Never had I been put first.
Always second to someone or something.
My mother wouldn't understand this.
My father would laugh.
Low self-esteem sucks when you 
can't find anyone to love as you are.
Opening the fridge seems to be the warmest welcome I receive
from anything.
...Food loves me.
Even when I don't feel pretty.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Cigarette Thoughts

He could've been saying anything.
It's the price one paid for not knowing another language.
It was never supposed to be more than a hook up,
And it wasn't.
His wanting her to stay a while,
Was just his nature.
He walked in circles while she lay there.
It was her third time being there,
In his bed,
She had only ever heard Spanish,
But found herself entranced in his language.
"Arabic" he said, "is just as beautiful you know. Maybe even more."
She smiled as he took another drag off his cigarette.
The park bench revealed his truth.
Egyptian men, married woman who spoke their language,
Understood their culture,
...and who didn't wear their sexuality in tank tops and short skirts.
He never called again.
And she cried.
The thought of his exotic brown skin
Caressing another's,
was the worst part.
And all she could see when she closed her eyes
...were his.
She took a final drag off her cigarette
And vowed to never return a smile at two in the morning.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Open Mic

He said,
he could tell I was easy
by the way I wrote my love poems.
There was always something about my father not loving me.
And so,
he knew that the sadness in me ,
would find solace in his smile.
He was right.
But its hard to smile,
when the men who I only seem to end up in the company of,
only like breaking things.
Sad girls,
we can be so fragile.
And yet,
God never seems to intervene.
After all,
there has to be someone sending these serial users our way.
You'll never know heartache,
until the one person you want to touch and feel,
decides you're no longer what they want.
... I don't think ill ever know what makes the pretty girls
the type of girls worth marrying.
I have yet to be the girl who is worth more than one night.
Maybe I should stop returning smiles from boys,
who hear my poetry,
who know my father didn't love me.
...Or maybe,
I should simply change the shade of my lipstick.
I guess both are too tragic.

Sunday, February 15, 2015


She couldn't explain it,
so, she stopped trying to.
She wanted to be touched,
but no longer by hands that didn't think to caress her face first.
This wasn't like all her other nights alone,
when the clock struck 10pm,
and her text message read "hey".
Instead of a reply,
she sighed heavy.
The movies had to be based off of reality,
she thought.
There had to be a man out there
who thought of her smile,
instead of the thickness of her thighs,
and the curve of her bottom lip.
The light from her phone, revealed another message
with nothing but a question mark across the screen.
He was hot and ready.
And she was sitting,
staring at the New york skyline from her 11th floor apartment,
Phone in hand,
with Jhene aiko rushing through her headphones.
She wondered,
if there was someone else out there
who could see the lights.
If there was someone else out there who could see how beautiful they shined.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Red Wine Confessions

I've never been a drinker,
but too often I find myself crying at the end of a bottle.
Wine is the worst best friend I have.

And don't get me started on Saturday nights with nowhere to go.

Twenty-six doesn't feel any different from twenty-five,
and yet... I can't help but see every day gone by in my face.

My mother would think I curse too much,
or at least I imagine she would.
I'm starting to forget the little things about her
and truth be told, 
It scares the living shit out of me.
Because if I forget her,
than I forget every reason I had for believing in anything.

Faith is hard to have sometimes.
Especially, when you're me.

And I've decided to tell people that my tattoos mean nothing,
It's easier than admitting that they're only in places that I long to be touched the most.

Loneliness man...

Sunday, January 11, 2015

7 Train

When You Were Young,
was the song that she professed as her favorite,
yet couldn't remember for the life of her.

"Take your time", he said.
He couldn't have cared less for the answer that she so desperately tried to recall,
but he could've stared at the smile that stretched across her heart shaped face forever.

Her purple worn boots,
those are what caught his eyes on the crowded 7 train.

Her voice; unexpectedly mesmerizing,
but her smile... her smile is what made his soul stand still.

She said, she only orders her coffee black because...why bother?
And she no longer wears make-up so that when people look her square in the eyes,
they really see her.
She had spent more years than she'd like to admit,
dressing up her face for people who never even looked at her.

She was beautiful,
But even he knew that she had given up on that notion, long before their fated collision.

He had only ever met broken women.
And she had only ever met men who liked to break things.
Life was funny like that.

"Filler," she professed. "Some people are born to be filler in other peoples backgrounds."
She shrugged her shoulders in acceptance.
And he smiled,
wishing the 7 train had been a local instead.