Declined

I had an interview today
without illusions, or delay
my soul immediately caged in
my instincts telling me to leave
so I was quick, up on my feet
and almost ran, my heart irregular in beat
now – like that offer – out of sync
no room to breathe, no freedom left to think
time off to sleep, yes, more or less
no thanks
to live I work, no turning back

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Processing

I cannot sleep. Too many things racing through my head. Too much disappointment this year, setbacks and lies. Understanding brings change – not there yet. Just angry, not wise.

unsocial media

I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.
Have a nice day. 
I see your text and realize
my skin’s too thin
let’s stay in touch
don’t bother me with real world stuff
let’s chat away
bitmoji here, a gif, a heart
I am supposed to feel the love
but all I see is emptiness
a hurried hi and bye
no friendship left
just phrases, memes, vids and vines
no human touch, no helping hand
no time to talk
no crutch to help a crippled walk

Mothers & Daughters

you ask why I’m still independent
no strings attached
always ready to take flight
you wonder why I’m always single
my home still small
my bags, though empty, close to me, in sight
you say you want my wings to spread
but I’m not able yet to fly
my plumage clipped the moment
he saw me aiming for the sky
and it’s his gaze, his words
his cruelty to you that keep me glued here on the floor
my inability to let you go
to leave you suffering behind closed doors

dis(s)honesty

you claim to want diversity
but all you seek is loyalty
not of the kind that serves a cause
but you alone, no questions asked

beware all those who disagree
with anything you do or feel
who have a mind, their own, not yours
who think, then act – for you that’s flawed

you like a pack to follow you
to howl and poach and follow through
with everything you ask of them
until they fail, no mercy then

Memories of Me

I long to feel your breath brushing against my neck as I hold you in your sleep. Your scent tickling my soul to stay awake, my heart long lost to you, your rhythm, your beat. Unable to breathe I lie here in the dark, my eyes closed to the soft touch of your breasts pressed against my own, my chest heavy because I know you are not really here. You never were. And yet, your smile’s imprinted on my mind like an old photograph preserving your beauty in black and white. Your voice follows me like a long lost tune reviving memories of a life that wasn’t meant to be. The loss of it killing me bit by bit because I’m unable to let go. You, the reminder of the life I once envisioned as a dream, a reminder of everything that once let me breathe.

A Letter to my Future Daughter, Part II

The hardest lesson of them all is to understand that most people do not wish to to help you when just a phone call would be sufficient to lift your chances. Phrases of support voiced without intent are nothing but an empty promise, leaving you dangling in the air of false hope and ultimate despair. Do not walk into that trap and let it cage your dreams. Stand tall no matter what. Leave the fake cheerleaders behind with a smile, wish them well but move on to find a better life – one that suits you and no one else. And when you make it, do not forget to reach out and offer that helping hand no one was willing to give you. It’s not a handout helping other people find their success, it’s not a weakness either. It is a gesture of humility to aid those who have the talents you miss and often wish you had but don’t have the means to live them out or nourish them. Be kind where you felt in your past kindness lacked, then give your heart a chance to heal. You are never too old to start anew, don’t allow the world to tell you that. Don’t ever feel too broken either, too crushed by rejection or failure to contribute what you have learned. Someone will appreciate your journey even if you feel you can’t because trust me, someone out there feels as lonely as you often do and needs your strength. After all, a soul with scars – more than anything – is beautiful and full of depth.

A Letter to My Future Daughter

Don’t hide behind a hashtag. Be the change you want to see. Support your fellow women. Believe them when they tell you a man you know has molested them. Don’t belittle them in response. Don’t tell them that’s just how it is. Don’t be a silent victim, speak up if you have been harassed. Teach your children to have self-respect and voices of their own. Raise your sons to be feminists and your daughters to be respectful to them in return. Don’t expect women to be better than men. We are not. We are just as flawed. Don’t call yourself goddess or a queen. We are all humans. Just imagine if men called themselves gods and kings. Don’t call other women bitches just because they disagree with you. Don’t sell yourself short for a relationship. Don’t objectify other women or reduce them to their looks. As an artist, create the content that you miss. Write female leads without abuse. Don’t tell their stories in relation to a man but let them be strong for themselves. Don’t support violence. Don’t promote, condone or further it on stage or screen. Don’t be a part of what in real life you oppose. Take responsibility for your actions. Simply practice what you preach.