Gentle Sting

There’s a gentle sting between us

Raw scratch… like a dry cough

It lingers

Starved of its libation

Our hearts are tucked away

In a cage of social construct

There’s a gentle sting between us

An itch that can’t be scratched


You are waters away

Waters indicate emotions

Under the surface away from the light of day

I once heard someone say…

Allow the sun to shine, the moon will get its turn

But the moon is still there during the day

The sun’s light hides it

Until the sun goes away

There’s a gentle sting between us

I don’t like pain

I wrote this raw , freestyle without edits; the way emotions tend to be.



mothers are gods on earth.

We are. There is no other way to explain

We are channels . Every mother is a medium. Because in us, the realms of the physical and the spiritual became one in the form of a once fetus now child .


Show me your scars.

How resilient you are.

Show me the ones you cover

The ones you hide from others

Not the ones that once bled


And crusted

Scabbed and fell

Tell me about the ones that never bled but hurt like hell

I’ll show you mine

In due time

How can time travel so fast, yet tears roll so slowly down the bridge of my nose

And I taste salt.


Break me into newness

Love me until I can feel again



Your heart to feel


To heal

I forgot periods of time


For my safety and the safety of others


Lace Bodystocking

Doorbell rings

Cold sweat

Panties off, coat check.


Talk shit

Bite lips , fingertips.

Time slows to near rewind

Trash talk from dirty minds

Chilled glass. Poured wine

Slow whine

Arched spine.


Skin peeks through lace

Blindfold covers face

Hearts race

from the sounds of

Beads around waist.


No guilt, mutual respect

caution…slippery when wet

Fingers on neck tightens.

Senses deprived … heightened

Energies connect, lightning.

Nearly divine , enlightened.


Same rhythm

Same. beat.

Fists grip fitted sheets

Toes curl on feet

Sweat drips from heat.


Beg for permission … slow down

Bite … pillow. muffle sounds

Waves crash

Rain down.


Soft and Cunt

Sometimes I wonder

How can I be so strong yet so fragile?

My heart is still raw like flesh.

Childlike faith mixed with healthy skepticism

Blame society, for this peculiar recipe.

Naïveté belongs in the past, to the days we once enjoyed, before reality stripped it away and scrubbed it clean.

I will never be the same again and I’m unsure if I should laugh or cry about this.

My heart is still like flesh, it hasn’t been hardened: I feel everything still.

But now the sensation has dimmed, less pronounced. The volume has been turned down to protect my senses.


I feel everything .

I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry about this.