revenge was never my intention.-but it still tastes sweeter than honey

a woman's wrath is nothing if not immortal

when you spendall your timeimagining yourselfin other people's shoes,your own storygoes unwritten,& there is nothingmore painfulthan that.

they saythey only wantflowersto grow frommy mouth,so i willlook themdeadin theeyeas ishovesoft petalspastmy lips,chewwithmy jawcompletelyunhinged,& spitthemdownattheir feet-i will never be your expectations of me

whenhe left,he packed upall my poetry&took itwith him.

women are considered to be possessions before we are ever considered to be human beings, & if our doors & our windows are ever smashed in by wicked men, then we are deemed worthless— foreclosed. never sold. so we move out of our neighborhoods & we make sister-homes out of each other. - we lock those doors & eat those keys.

there exists a fine line between being selfish & being selfless & most days i can’t tell which side it is that i’m on. & most days? i don’t care. - there are some things i just have to do for me.

heopened me uplike a book& poured thepoetryback intome.-my personal pen and paper

becomingyourownsaviorsometimesmeansknowing whenyouneed to ask forhelp.- therapy session no. 1