It’s March. Spring is starting to peek through the clouds.
I’m trying to move slow. I’m trying to be easy.
I’m working hard just to breathe.
I’m pining for control over my own body,
My autonomy feels out of reach.

I am reminded how I felt at sixteen, when I made the choice to starve.
Then I am reminded of the Palestinian children and men and w…read more

My love and I wake in a new city.
Maybe a new country.

Either continental or café,
We enjoy a breakfast with good coffee
and pastries.
The chocolatiest of croissants,
The softest of scones,
and the warmest of waffles.

Then, we go for a walk.
We take our time to inhale the fresh air and
absorb the new city’s noises and
admire its unique ar…read more

I was eighteen in my public speaking class, introducing myself as a lioness with a shake in my throat.
She reminded me of my own strength when I needed her most:
When I was dissociating away from my high school relationship,
And dissociating into the arms of an abusive one.
When with ferocious presence I left, and I rebuilt.

When Roe v.…read more

The best day is a slow day at work. The best day is the day that the sun is shining, but it’s not too hot outside. The best day is the first day the temperature drops in September. The best day is the day I can give my baby a kiss. The best day is the day I belly laugh with my best friends until my cheeks hurt. The best day is the day I give my m…read more

I’m grateful for blue skies, warm sunshine, and a breeze that kisses the nose.
I’m grateful for green grasses and rushing creeks and bare feet.
I’m grateful for friends and lovers that grab you by the hand and dance with you.
I’m grateful for their consistent reminders, “You’re safe here. I love you.”
I’m grateful for the forehead kisses my love…read more

I was in awe of the whimsies and romance.
I yearned for my art to comfort and soothe;
For my art to hold the listener’s hearthurt the way my hearthurt was held,
For my art to share imagery with songs of love,
To create beauty in death as he created it.

I wanted to be Hozier, but I have to be Poe, first.

I have to walk through my Inferno to r…read more

Dear reader,
I still struggle with body dysmorphia.
But in 2021, I started wearing tiny clothes. For the first time ever.
I’ve been many different sizes since my teens, but I’ve always been shaped the same. I was a chunky kid, or a curvy girl. Even in the height of my eating disorder, my bone structure never changed. The shape of my scapulae, the…read more