I feel like both the boat and the iceberg at once, the killer and the to be killed.

The killer didn’t know it was doing anything wrong. The killer was at peace in its ocean, hiding. You know, when they say “it’s just the tip of the iceberg” means you only see a little bit of the malice.

But then the boat comes, and with no slowing and no flexibility, she careens into the iceberg, breaking this peaceful beast to pieces.

It didn’t matter if the boat tried to take last minute extreme measures.

The iceberg was always there, and … Read the rest

She thought she was going to have a good life, but she didn’t, no she didn’t.

Every scrap of love was fickle, every realized dream a nightmare.

Everyone who told her she was sweet as lollipops had no problem dropping her in the trash when they were finished sucking the life out of her.

But how are you today?

Today’s poetry prompt words were: no she didn’t, fickle, and lollipops.

_{Photo by Crazy Cake on Unsplash}

We met when your only job was shuttling your children back and forth to their various activities, and now I know you loved that more than most things. You’d drive for hundreds of miles just to get the chance to drive them another few hundred miles.

You are a warrior father. You will go to battle for them but not for me. I am the one you defend them against. You keep me away to keep them protected, and it hurts me, it hurts me, and not a single cook in the kitchen has a clue, or would care … Read the rest

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This is a thing I’m doing now, posting poetry on Instagram and Bluesky and wherever else I can share the love.

By which I mean do something to try to make a name for myself so that when I finish writing a book and I’m ready to publish it I’ll already have built in readers.

Thanks for reading!

You tell me what you want for dinner and I feel nothing but relief. Thank God I don’t have to make that decision again today. The heavy weight of adulthood is a deathly oppression. There’s a chance of heavy storms in the forecast, and one can only be pushed so far, little dove, before they’ll fall from the sky.

I have no illusions of forever. My forever should have started twenty years ago, instead it ended right when it was picking up speed. I’ve learned since that all I am is someone’s missing piece. I’m what they use to fill … Read the rest