The Tortured Poets Department has a writer’s division that has to approve every poem before it goes out
And my mind is tired of being held hostage
A loose-leaf definition of writer’s block was once defined by the utter of: I don’t feel like writing, this isn’t good enough, my hand only works for the remote today
Then she interrupts my train of thought to ask: why have you never wrote a poem about me
It’s not that I haven’t
There are 100s getting as comfortable as you can be in the waste basket
The last poem I Kobe shot, Melo made, and Curry posed to the trash can started like this:
An eye lash is trying to make your cheek more than just a Sunday service sanctuary
It wants a home
I know you’d like me to remove it
But who am I to destroy a home
I can’t help but think how beautiful you look with that eye lash
As it rests there like a pair of doves flirting on a branch not far away from me
What are you starring at, she exclaims
Oh, nothing I reply, today I’ll let the eye lash remain
On
Your rosy cheeks, kissed by my dead rose petal lips
Reminding you of the time we went camping and you hated that you smelled the outside
You hated that you smelled like outside
And I kept teasing you but hiking, visualizing, and tenting next to nature is maybe the closest thing to
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your gorgeous
Ugh, I can never find the right words to describe a tenth of your gorgeous
And it makes me want to drop dead out of frustration
Because the writers need to feel exactly what I do when they read:
Holding her hand is to get a glimpse of forever before I die
Holding her makes my heart resemble the flight of a butterfly
Holding her hand is to hold my battles in the palm of my hand and make them cry
The writers consist of a delicious various assortment of personality; often referred to as me, myself, and I
Every time I get ready to seal this poem to you the writer’s block me from letting you receive it
p.s. I haven’t learned to love myself enough to love you…

Black is the new poetry my dear
Authored by our ancestors so I could have a voice that is heard beyond the volume of fear
The ink has always been dark so see with your ears
Black is the new love, now let your heart hear
The strength born from blood, sweat, and tears
That grew into a sunrise of a smile, my dear
My darling I keep your Melanin near
And your beauty adds depth to my mirror
The reflection tells me weapons are forming but they will stay in the rear
Because,
My black is the sunset to my depressed anxiety to steer
A blooming future in the right direction never to veer
Toward negativity, my dear
My black is the armor that never cracked, from the roots of scars and ignored facts
My black has always got my back so even if my eyes close you will still see this color, add a period to that!
My black is a promise painted like a rainbow you’ll never grey wash my faith, peace never cracks
p.s. my black has wings that sang…

Have I really been working on myself or did I just change from my work clothes to something more comfortable
Is this depression or is it just the pigment of my skin
Can I defeat you, detach from you or are you so fingerprinted to my thoughts that I’m simply running away from me
Sometimes I wish I could just escape me, myself wears a mask, and I am tired of getting dressed up just to still feel down
I’m black said my mind, I live in the shadows of sadness watching the sunlight from a distance
If only the heat from the suns smile would kiss me, maybe it would melt away my sadness
I’m black said my words, followed by you’re different, they won’t accept you, you don’t fit in
I’m black says the mirror looking at a reflection of depression
I get so lost in my waning emotions my waxing moon can barely breathe
It’s so cold that even the rays of light feel sad
I’m black, I’m depressed, I’m black, I’m oppressed, I’m black I’m obsessed with the idea of my feelings living on equal ground
I’m black, I’m depressed the two interchange while beginning to sound the same so much so I took depressions last name
When I look at me I see one broken piece
I can’t find the rest of the lyrics to my song, maybe it’s because the writer will never finish it
Maybe it’s because I didn’t cry enough to water my heart
I’m black, I’m dirt, but my soil is killing the last remaining rose
I am a rose with bloody red regrets for petals, I put my failures on a pedestal
So, every time I tried to look up it got me nowhere
I’m lost and I keep letting the grey line give me directions, because there’s a thin line between joy and happiness, and in the middle is pity where you can find me
I’m black so they think I stole these 5 minutes of happiness, and so what if I did everyone deserves 15 minutes of fame and mine is coming soon
But right now, I just want to smile and actually feel the laughter hold me instead of the facade that hugs me like a long embrace
This morning I stopped running and looked depression in the face
My mind is not yours it is the Lord’s
p.s. let the battle begin

Step side to side
Sway to our song
Your heart is the lyrics
My soul the instrumental
Hold my hand the way Jesus held the nails
Step side to side
Nerves waltz to love
No music is needed
When sacrifice becomes a verb
I’ll hold you like the space between us is trying to escape
Step side to side
A crowded ball room that only sees us
Watching movies with the sound off
Empty hands have the fullest hearts
And the cup of my rhythmic soul runneth over
p.s. don’t forget to kiss me under the waterfall chandeliers…

I think I’m in happy…
Introvert at heart I was exhausted but enjoying myself like a good day at the gym
I had been participating in some verbal jogging when the jargon interrupted the depth of my thoughts
I wanted to go deeper, but the question brought me back to the surface
You know, that over used, over played, over copied, get out of jail free question
So, how did you feel, question mark
A mental sigh fogs my mind, as I wait for the dust to settle, I try to paint what can’t be replicated in any art
My response a cliche of my own just to joust back
In case we’re keeping score
I’m deadly competitive to a fault, laughing to myself touché
Oh, my reply, I almost forgot
The cliche runs from my mouth: the words to describe it are lost but if found it would be something like watching the American Day Dream on the big screen except you’re the main character
When your mood matches the brightness within the sunrise of your eyes and you’re by no means even a little bit of an early bird
You hear the sound of vinyl recorded melodies on repeat as you brush your teeth
The dust slowly undresses as I then get dressed
Looking for the perfect outfit is comparable to searching for these words
And don’t even get me started on shoes
The right pair will have everyone on there heels and can capture the eyes to the soul
That day my soul sang solo after the shower rained down cleansing compliments
Chanting for an encore
The volume of the claps is turned down
The dust has finally kissed the ground
And for the reveal my reflection sees a familiar memory
As my mouth curves like a rose into a shape it hasn’t felt in awhile
I’ve been chasing this flowery feeling like the butterfly tasting the flight of bliss
I grab as fast as I can, gripping the steering wheel headed to the destination
Shouting I’m never letting go
As my opposite palm holds her hand
I want to stop to picture frame this memory
I have to stop and picture frame this memory
We stop at the red light and she asks: can I borrow a forehead kiss
I respond: as long as you come back again
p.s. this is happiness, it was something like that…

There was a war within the conversation
Eight casualties reported that leaves only one left
The gun holder hears a voice cry: what do you want from me?
The gun confidently cocks a whisper: I want everything you didn’t give to me back
You see in my head you were supposed to care
Package your love as the gift I receive every second of the day
But you were so nonchalant like the fashionable fabric that hangs off the shoulder purposely and doesn’t care about any penny pinching opinions
Personality is fashion and doesn’t have to be understood
I didn’t expect you to comprehend the inner workings, I just wanted you to try
But you would rather show more interest in other things… I’m one of the reasons you’re still alive
Funny now I got your life in my hand
And I’m taking it, out like the trash today that has been sitting for too long
Anger starts to cry as the gun holder exclaims say goodbye, say goodbye, say goodbye
Can’t do it can you
Don’t make me pull this trigger
You ain’t never been about no action it’s always talk
Neither have you, you were supposed lead me out of Egypt, but you just had me going in circles of your desert mind
You were supposed to provide, but all you did was cover your tracks with paid excuses
I know I’m not perfect and I promise I did try… I’m just still hurt, and the kaleidoscope pain made me dizzy
It’s hard to move forward when you can’t catch balance as it falls, not to mention verbal bullets trying to permanently end the conversation
What do you want from me?
I want a ring, don’t casually date me be committed
I give you a release, I am your peace, but you only tool this pleasure for your advantage, making copper from gold
I’m a grown woman not one of your little friends
I want you to understand my history and stop browsing
I want you to protect me and walk on the busy side of the street
I want to feel safe in your arms, keep all the danger locked away
I’m a queen and want to be your friend to represent our royalty
I want to be your inhale and you my exhale
I’m jealous so I want to be your heart and rib
I want you to love me the way Christ married the cross, and left little posted notes on the mirror in the form of a book for His children’[
You wanted so much from me but never invested in me, us, our relationship has been life and death, but you keep it in the same breath… As small talk
Then expect me to take our conversations seriously
Well, if that’s what it’s going to be I’ll keep your letters piled up on the corner of the desk like the mail I need to throw away
Cold steel makes me spit sweat and choke on air
Kill shot, the gun is talking, the conversation has a period in the shape of a bullet
The white light gets louder as I grow older
Now what was all that talk you was saying?
Breathing heavy, is this it, is it too late?
Breathing heavy, She has blocked me
She is Poetry and my blood is the ink
I finally understand but is it too late
Breathing heavy
Please poetry take this writers block away from me
p.s. she just wants respect…

She said get dressed we’re going out
Immediately my introverted thoughts tied me down to chair where I was watching a movie
She could see my hesitation breathing hard so she quickly interjected
Before you say no I took care of all the essentials, so you don’t have to worry about anything
It’s all planned out, and I know you don’t like to always get fancy so this is more of a business casual scene
She then casually walks away saying I need to go get ready
We’re leaving in 40
I leave my comfortable chair and make my way to the closet
Trying my best to closet my anxiety
Maybe my off whites will help me walk away from the dark thoughts
Today feels like a bow tie day
I usually put my cologne on last but in the rush of the moment things got mixed up
Tree sprays and she could sense the scent in the atmosphere change
Lust became a dangerous game
She ran my direction and said close your eyes before she entered the room
I don’t want you to see my outfit
She ran up behind me and her lips hugged my cheek
Then she walked in front of me, her hands covered my eyes
She asked what is that you’re wearing
As I started to speak her lips gripped mine before I could get a word out
She said is smells sweet
I replied: like candy
She answered: yes
She then proceeded to steal two more candy coated cologne kisses from me
Now finish getting ready she whispered as she left the room
p.s. I’m so in love…

Roses are blue and violets are red
When I think of you everything is backwards in my head
Like what I usually would never do I’m now thinking about times two
Every reservation turns into an invitation, so I made plans including dinner for two
Her favorite flower is a rose, and what would a rose be by any other name
If I pick a rose does it take my last name
Roses are pink and Lilys are Lilac
Lavender conversations tastes different when you know she has your back
A rose tattooed on my back is dead until your finger tips hug my thorns
A relationship embraces the pain of every fallen petal
A rose is just a star but with you holding it I can see the galaxy
Dreams aren’t that far away with you in the passenger seat
She drives me crazy and I don’t mind
What’s happiness without adversity
Is a rose still as beautiful without the barb wire
Roses are white and sunflowers are teal
In a crowded room, far away, but I can still feel
You
U without the y. o. because something is different
U and I could be different, and the world needs a change
p.s. I just want to buy you flowers…

It’s the breath I need but can’t reach
Arms extended as far as they can reach
But the superhero is late this time and can’t save me
Plan ahead they say so you can make time to smell the flower things
I’ve never been much of a gardener
However, today I’m planting mustard seeds
So, my confidence can age as grand as the canyon
I can finally picture heaven in the palm of my hands with this Canon
Camera, bombing any part of hell left in my yesterday that tries to burn my film
Hope used to be a dream then I made my dreams come true
Hope used to slip through my fingers but now I wear it as a cape
Flying over depression, fear, and regret
Debts I no longer wish to add to
Stop subtracting from you, thinking to myself
Hope is priceless, you don’t have to play tag with money
That’s why the tag looks out of place in a garden
The highest value holders are free
Plant faith and wake up in a field of dreams
Plant a rose and fall in love
Plant patience and endurance will run past any future
Harmony outlasts pains earthquake
Honor overcomes poisoned endings
And it gives me hope that tomorrow isn’t so bad after all
I don’t always feel super, but I will be my own hero
p.s. don’t forget your cape…

Last night, I didn’t sleep well, as I had several nightmares. I was haunted by the endless images I saw in the news: A young woman’s naked, lifeless, unconscious (possibly deceased) body being paraded around as a trophy after Hamas attacked young people at a music festival in Israel, a 25-year-old woman begging for her life as she was taken as a hostage and babies whose faces were covered in dust and blood from the bombs thrown near their homes.

When I awoke this morning, I immediately read the news to see the latest. And while the horror continues on the other side of the world, I was also disheartened to learn that hate was just outside my doorstep.

People at rallies down the street from where I slept last night are wearing, holding, and celebrating images of swastikas and promoting anti-semitic rhetoric. For the first time in my life, I was and am scared to be Jewish.

While I have been doing my best to educate myself through the news, friends, and online resources, I am not going to sit here and pretend I fully understand the conflict between Palestine and Israel – because I don’t. And I know that it’s natural and easy to see the world through the lens of my own experiences and identity.

However, we all, myself included, should see and feel our humanity reflected in every person on this planet. And act accordingly.

As I try to process these last few days, the violence happening in the Middle East is not just about me, or any one group of people or politics. This cruel attack on innocent people is about all of us. It is a threat to all of humanity.

No child, no person, whether they share my background or not, whether Palestinian or Israeli (or any other culture, race, or religion), deserves to live or die in such an inhumane way.

There are a lot of issues we can’t and won’t agree on in this world. But we universally should believe in and tirelessly advocate for love, compassion, and peace for all people.

And sadly, right now, that’s not the case.

I am scared and heartbroken as I pray for the victims of violence, our world, and humanity.

Dear Mr. —

Did you know the NFL’s Ryan Grant also participated in basketball and track and field during his time at Don Bosco Prep School in New Jersey? Did you know the NBA’s Adonal Foyle still holds the record in New York for most points in a high school tournament game? Did you know former Suffern High School girls’ lacrosse star Crysti Foote is a member of the Canadian National Team and is recognized as one of the best female players in the world? Inspired by the commitment and passion all great athletes demonstrate, I know both the technicalities of sports and interesting facts about the athletes themselves, which is why I believe if I become a reporter for MSG Varsity I will be a powerful conduit between the athletes and the tri-state community. I will ask questions the viewers want to know and receive honest answers from athletes who respect my knowledge.

My confidence in my future success is based on the achievements of my past as well as my present occupation. As a young 21-year-old college graduate, I began writing for NBA.com and WNBA.com. With my own swagger, I entered NBA and WNBA locker rooms to interview athletes double my size among journalists twice my age. Publishing hundreds of articles and blogs on NBA.com, WNBA.com, D-league.com, NikeWomen.com, and WomensProSoccer.com, I have also had my fair share of on-air opportunities. Currently, I am a co-host for On the Mike With Mike Sherman, a weekly entertainment, lifestyle, and sports show that airs on a CBS affiliate (My33) in South Florida. Last season, when the 49ers took on the Giants in New Jersey, I was there to interview athletes and report back on the night’s events for CBS’ San Francisco affiliate. I have reported local news on Long Island and worked as a sports reporter for Artsis Media, where I shot, edited, wrote, and produced all my own stories.

Throughout my tenure at Columbia University, I majored in sociology and focused on the sociological impact of sports. Through my 40-plus page senior thesis, I discovered that to have longevity and acceptance as a female sports reporter, you must be a sports connoisseur yourself. Voted biggest jock in my high school senior superlatives, I have lived, breathed, and loved sports throughout my life. I believe if given a chance I will be recognized and respected by the sports world for telling compelling stories and conducting in-depth thought-provoking interviews. In other words, I’m a talented young recruit with an All-American future and would love to help the MSG Varsity team work its way to the top of the game.

Sincerely,

This weekend, I was standing on top of a hill with a fortress and a lighthouse that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea in a small beach town in Spain called Tossa De Mer. It was absolutely breathtaking. And I never even heard of this place before we arrived. All I could think was, “How in the world did I get here?”

Flashback five years ago, I was at a job in Ohio, and I was not particularly happy for many reasons. Guided by a strong intuition (and maybe my misery as well), I left my career as a sportscaster to start my own company, theunsealed.com. We are a platform that allows people to share personal stories in an effort to use writing to transform pain into power. If you know me, you know The Unsealed fuels my soul. It makes me excited to wake up in the morning and fills my life with meaning and purpose. For the first three years after starting my company, I worked every single day – most of the time, ten hours a day. No vacations. No days off. And I was perfectly happy doing so.

Personally, I have always enjoyed dating and the attention that comes with it, but after two very serious relationships in my early and mid-twenties, for a long time, I didn’t want anything serious. I always feared that a relationship would and could hold me back, especially when I was a sportscaster, and I didn’t know what city or what job would be next. However, as I became more certain that The Unsealed was what I wanted to do and could do with my life, I became cautiously more open to the idea of a partnership.

Then, after the pandemic, my brother sent me an online flyer for an event. It was called Miami Tech Night; a networking event held every Wednesday in Miami for people who work in tech. My brother thought it would be a great opportunity for me to meet people in my industry. So, as I usually do, I followed my brother’s advice. It was maybe my second or third time attending when this tall, handsome man approached me and asked me what I did for a living. I happily told him, and then he shared a little bit about his career. As we chatted more and more, he revealed that he had started a successful online business in his 20s and sold it. I was impressed, intrigued, and inspired. He invited me to my favorite taco spot down the street to continue the conversation after the event. We quickly realized we had similar interests and family values.

From there, we started spending time together almost daily. Every week seemed to get better and better. So, one day, about three months into our relationship, I suggested getting away from Miami for a few weeks during the summer. Summers are so hot, muggy, and humid in Miami. I proposed L.A., and he said he had wanted for a while to take this massive three-month trip to Europe. He asked if I would be willing to come along. In theory, it sounded amazing, but I needed to work! Plus, leaving my dog for that long would not be easy for me.

My parents agreed to watch my dog, and my boyfriend promised me I could work as much as I wanted on the trip. He’s been where I am, so he gets it. I agreed to go, and for the first time maybe ever, I am figuring out how to have a work-life balance, waking up early to work before we go out for an excursion, and finding cafes in every city to continue to put in at least eight hours every weekday. Instead of resenting me, my boyfriend pushes me to wake up early and goes to play tennis when he doesn’t have his own work to get done.

At night and on the weekends, when we have time, we have the most incredible experiences exploring the world together, visiting castles in Portugal, wandering the Gothic Quarter in Barcelona, and getting lost in the public transportation system somewhere in Europe (super grateful to the restaurant owner who called us a taxi).

There is no way if you told me five years ago I would be here right now, I would believe you. But as I sit in a cafe in Spain and reflect, I realize I don’t know exactly where my life is headed, but I do know how I got where I am right now. And that is by personally and professionally following my heart.

With love,
Lauren

P.S. Special shoutout to my boyfriend – thank you for believing in me, pushing me, loving me, and inspiring me. And thank you for speaking three languages. We certainly would get far more lost otherwise!

As a kid, I was adventurous, riding rollercoasters at age five, going on a plane by myself at seven, and willing to travel just about anywhere up through my college years. I am not sure if it was the pandemic or the tragedies we see daily in the news, or maybe just me getting older, but somehow, along my journey, my fearless spirit began to fade.

In April, my boyfriend (of just a few months at the time) proposed a trip of a lifetime, three months of traveling all over Europe while working remotely. In theory, it sounded amazing. I went to Europe in my teens and early 20s and loved it. But three months is a long time away from my family and dog, and Europe feels so distant from home. I was scared to go.

Nonetheless, knowing how much my boyfriend wanted to travel and how wonderful an opportunity and privilege this trip truly is, I agreed to go with him. However, during the three weeks leading up to the trip, I had two separate back spasms/herniated discs, and, for the first time in my life, I fainted and hit my head pretty hard. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not. But I definitely felt very anxious.

Once we made it to our apartment in Barcelona, Spain, I felt slightly more at ease. So far, we’ve walked for miles and miles along the beach, not knowing where we were going or what we wanted to do. We’ve tried delicious food that was possibly worth the ensuing stomachache. And I have attempted to speak and understand a language I do not know. All the while, my boyfriend and I are beginning to learn more about each other’s quirks as we fully live together for the first time.

As I sit here writing in a cafe in Barcelona, eating new food, working on The Unsealed, and listening to various languages in a city I don’t know very well at all, I am now hopeful that getting a little lost in this world will help me find a part of myself that I thought was long gone.

Dear Grandpa,

It’s been nearly 25 years since I last saw you, and what I remember most about you is how you made me feel. Whether at dinner on the holidays, playing cards, or sitting in your living room telling stories, you lived with a joy and zest for life that was so effortless, natural, and contagious.

Growing up, you were very athletic, just like me. So when I would tell you about the plays I made or the goals I scored, you’d say, “That’s my little athlete,” knowing I got my athletic prowess from you. I was very outgoing as a child, telling a stranger my whole life story within the first five minutes of meeting them. Since you were not short of personality at any point in your life, you’d always say, with a grin, “We know where that one came from.”

When I was around you, I always felt like you loved and believed in me and were proud that I was your granddaughter. Grandpa, you always made me happy, and you always made me smile.

For many years, you had health problems: diabetes, cancer, and heart problems. During the fall of my first year of high school, you had what felt like your 10th heart attack and passed away the Friday after Thanksgiving. I was devastated. Your death was the first time I lost someone close to me. But I pressed on.

For years, you told me the rain was good luck. So, to cope, I looked for rain to stay connected to you – a way to know you were still there. Sure enough, it rained on the day I graduated from high school. On August 15th, 2012, which would have been your 85th birthday, I was offered my first full-time on-air sports anchor/reporter job. It was pouring outside. And more recently, when I met my boyfriend, who treats me so well and makes me laugh, I asked what his name meant. When he said he didn’t know, I looked it up. His name means the God of Rain.

With all my heart, Grandpa, I believe you are watching over me. You know I became a sportscaster, and you love that I started a business that advocates for kindness, courage, and equality. You are so overjoyed about the quality of my new boyfriend’s character, and you think it’s funny how my dog doesn’t let anyone within three feet of me. In fact, I think you may have something to do with that.

So more than telling you that I miss you or even that I love you, what I want you to know is how you made me feel when I was a little girl is how you make me feel now.

Thank you for still making me smile. Thank you for still making me happy.

Love your little athlete,

Dear Mom, Here is what makes our relationship special.

I am not the only person in the world who thinks they have the world’s greatest mom. But I am the only one who is right. There are so many reasons why you are a great mom. Growing up, you showed up at every dance recital, soccer game, graduation, and field trip. You did my hair as a little girl, even though you had to chase me around the house with a brush and a bow in hand for 20 minutes to do so. You took me to The Plaza for tea time and to restaurants in the city for lunch dates. And you have supported every dream I have ever had. While I cherish all those moments and memories, what really makes you the best mom is that you have never let me cry alone.

In my worst moments, Mom, you have always been there to listen to, encourage, and give me advice. As a little girl, when I was upset about school or a boy and couldn’t sleep, you would sit in my bed and talk to me until I felt better. To this day, when I am sad or stressed or just need a friend, you are my first phone call. From my first breakup to my assault to the passing of my ex-boyfriend, you have held my hand, wiped my tears and. And somehow, you always make me feel better.

Your warmth, consistency, and wisdom make you a cut above the rest. And as a result, I move through life feeling very loved. You make hard times more bearable and good times more meaningful.

I am so lucky to have you, the best mom in the world.

I love you with all my heart,

Your daughter,