A poem

I feel like a draft of myself

Could some budding artist fold me up and carry me to their studio

pin me up high or lay me out flat, I don’t care…

just rub out the parts that don’t feel right,

smudge over past versions still on show,

my canvas is exposed,


Pull out your brushes and paints,

enhance my colours that are fading away.

and while you’re there, please

scale my proportions properly to frame.

Because I’m paling to who I once was,

who I want to be.

A collection of inconsistent parts.

The edits are endless and I’m tired,

I want to sleep through it all and wake up a masterpiece.



A poem

Being raised a girl

something slips out of my mouth unabashed

I won’t even notice till I’m three letters in

the ingrained habit I’ve always leant on

as any opportunity someone might misinterpret

me my breath my tone smile a gesture

I don’t want to offend ! I need you to understand




A poem

Why yesterday but not today?

I smile confidently

The recipe worked last time

but today’s words don’t rise;

each one falls flat.

I remind everyone

the recipe worked last time

but I chew on every word;

each one tastes bland.

I scream to nobody

the recipe worked last time

but I throw salt on the words;

each grain stings my wounds.

I cry to myself

the recipe worked last time

yesterday these ingredients filled me with words

but today they leave me hungry.



A poem

Riddle me a poem

I test you all but, in the end, it is only I that passes.

You desperately try to mark me with good things, yet I mark you so effortlessly with things you think are so bad, you try to hide them.

You don’t want to waste me but, in the end, it’s only you who wastes and withers away.

The hands on your wrists don’t tell your secrets, I do.

You save me like pennies not a princess. I can’t complain though because, in the end, I do nothing to save you.




A Poem

Count your blessings, not the syllables

“These are what we call ‘Obsessive Thoughts’

The counting, the checking… the cure?”

The therapist says, knowing

I’m craving a quick fix.

“It’s not so simple…



the odds.






Aspiring everything, but for the sake of 160 characters… I write and read poetry and personal essays. Happy to create/chat/collab!