I dreamt of you.

All the great things in one flash of unconscious memory.

I dreamt of you.

Loving you & Loving me.

I missed you.

As my mind was giving me signs on where to find you, how to get to you, how to stay.

I dreamt of you.

Visiting me in my dreams, so maybe I came to you, too.

I watched silently as you destroyed me.

Doing all the things you did in reality, knowingly destroying me.

A million tiny pieces.

As I woke up with uncontrollable tears rushing down my face.

Heart beating too fast for me to catch it.

Why do you have to come into me dreams & fuck with me?


I dreamt of you.

I dreamt of you.

I dreamt of you.

And when I woke up, you were nowhere to be found.

X. O.



Part of me wants to call you, email you, see you, anything. Anything to get a message across that goes like, “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

But a bigger part of me, warns me, of all the things you caused and how much you didn’t fix. And you wondered why I hated you so much. Why I had so much animosity and resentment built up towards you.

That part of me reminds me of all the ways you manipulated me, and made yourself believe you did nothing wrong while you pretended to apologize.

You tried to love me while lying about who you were and what I was to you. I didn’t fit the mold of the person you wanted even before meeting me. And you were going to do everything in your power to make whoever walked into your life next, the person you built.

Part of me wants to reach out but I know that’d I’d be doing it in search of something that I’ll never find with you.

So instead I’ll be here, actively not thinking about you. And for now, that will have to be enough.



I am drowning.

Breathing in water and thinking this next breath, I’ll be afloat.

But I am still underwater.

Knowing I can swim, telling myself I should start, as if… if I don’t start now I’ll tire. Get too tired to swim to the surface, at all.

Each time, never knowing if I’ll find my way to the top or sink to the bottom in one swift motion with concrete blocks strapped to my ankles.

Feeling so indifferent of this life, it’s knowing I can swim but I let the water take me, anyway.



You missed it.

The point.

The apology.

Your chance.


Chicken Soup

I am numb. Except, this time I feel everything and nothing at the same time.

So numb, I become frustrated with my own minds inability to feel the happiness that I am feeding it.

I think, you used to love this.

Its persistent refusal to let me feel anything good.

See, my mind has warriors surrounding it, protecting it. They have names. Each a different Rx bottle I keep by my bed.

I put them there. Told them to make themselves comfortable–they might be here awhile.

“Protect this. Protect me,” I’d say.

And they’d baby feed it pills and read it books like: Mental Illness for Dummies and Chicken Soup & SSRI’s for the Soul.

Something like that.

And when my mind attacked its own blood out of fear, I placed another warrior there to protect it.

And, still, numb.

But, it’s the kind where you try to get upset at anyone or anything and be angry or mean and start sabotaging your own life and everything in it so you can feel something other than fucking numb.

No, still.

I made friends with these demons a long time ago and I keep trying to understand what the fuck their problem is where they can’t just let me love them like I always have.

I realized.

These are new. We are not friends yet.

The warriors protecting my mind have failed, but I found out too late.

New demons. Unfriendly ones.

Slowly waging a war inside my head.

And I’m numb because, they’re winning.



Mon cheri

I don’t use many words. So the irony with that, is I write here for whatever lost soul tries to find their way inside of me, or in spite of me.

I don’t use a lot words, verbally, the way you read the dialogue between two people in your favorite book.

Someone told me that I am not a romantic. Which I’m not. Not with things like bringing you flowers, making a grand gesture, etc., etc..

No, I’m not many things, I know this.

I don’t use a lot of words but if you only knew the thoughts that race around in my head all day, all night. Because, even if I look at you and a few things flow out to form a light-hearted sentence, in my head I’m thinking how perfect your lips are and how they part when you call me “b” or “mi amor.”

And I think, I never want to leave this bed, your black silk sheets, ruined by my shea butter — unapologetically. Your arm wrapped around my waist, warm, gentle but strong like the only thing you could ever hurt is the threat of breaking this bond: you & I.

No words expressed but I wonder, this person could get tired of me, and if she never tires she will feel the wrath of what is my mental disease, attacking its host and everything that could ever get close to it; me. But, after I make an attempt of ruining the good I realize that this soul is standing in front of me, ripping open her rib cage so she can wrap me up, so tight in her embrace so I feel nothing but her heart beating with mine.

I rub my fingers through your hair, caress the nape of your neck because that’s my gesture for, “Hi, my love. I missed you.”

I’ve never told you but I’ve never slept so soundly next to someone before. Why is that, hmm? Because everyone before you was just a post on this blog, shitty emotions, infections sucking the life from their host and draining every bit of melanin from my skin and every breath from my lungs, until you.

I sleep sound because my lungs, these lungs are full of oxygen – the kind that literally gives you life. I sleep sound because my skin is rich in color because I remembered that Black Girl Magic is real, and I made you a believer. I sleep sound because my dark and twisty tried to take over my body, my mind, my good — and you refused.

Words, dripping off my tongue to get to you.

I am no romantic, but I will use these words to write my love letters…

to you.



I could, and I won’t.

I could stay here for days, for weeks, for years.

I could like you, then love you, then be in love with you.

I could stay and always remember that this. is. work.

I could give you everything you want, then more, and more.

I could decide what pieces of me I could live without and then let you chip them away, bit…by…bit.

I could be your best friend, your girlfriend, your wife.

I could do all these things. Be all these things. And still I’d be doing something wrong.


I change, and change, and change some more.

I cry again, and again.

And even then,

Even so,

Even if,

I do all that I could do and be exactly who you want me to be,

I still wouldn’t be enough.

But, I won’t put my body, my mind, my soul through that.

And you can either get over yourself or walk through that door.

But, not me, or the girl you wish I was…

Is chasing after you.



But, sometimes I wonder if we’ll actually make it.

Dear Dad,

It’s been 5 years. I’m not even a sentence in and I’m already crying. That’s because, I don’t believe it ever gets easier. People say that it does, but those people aren’t me.

When you’re 20 years old and your dad sends you a text saying, he needs to talk to us… And me, being his daughter… Call him right then and there, and demand to know what he’s talking about.

He tells me, they found something. And I think that’s the moment my heart broke, forever.

There’s a piece was made specifically for you. You made me and there is a piece that was meant for you in my heart and mind. That part will never be filled ever again.

And I know, I need to let go so I can move on, but I can never let go of you.

I can’t let go because… In 5 years, I think if you ever day and I hear your laugh, my laugh, too. But every day it moves further and further away from me and I think to myself, “What if I forget what his voice sounded like?”

& I think people take that for granted… The way we sound, the voice in our heads. The one I look to when I miss you so much I’d do anything just to see you again. Dumb decision, and all.

Then, I hear you. And I thank the stars that at least today, I can remember your voice.

Miss you.



Kept in the Dark

More and more days in the dark and twisted. This is not hard for me, not particularly unusual – what is however, is how deep my thoughts go when I’m in these days.

It is hard for me, and it is particularly unusual…the deepest depths of vast open pits go in my mind.

But there are no pills, no therapist, no happy place that can cure it. As much as I try to uncover what the source is for this storm in my head – I think too long, and I’m afraid.

Because the thoughts you put into my head, the more I discover when I’m triggered, when I’m at a bar, walking through the grocery store, when anyone looks at me and I feel this spider crawling up my spine. I think of that night, how my control was taken from me, I think of waking up the next morning and not understanding what happened, how it happened, and what is was that I did wrong.

That storm swirls in my head, and panic drums up in my throat, and instead of screaming at the top of my lungs, or running and telling you, the person who should see if these deeps are too scary for you to navigate…

No… Instead, I swallow, take a deep breath, and push it further down so no one will ever find it…


Not even me.