Glass

Glass

I stand still looking at the floor.
My eyes glued to the tiny shards of glass;
pieces that used to make up my cup;
fragments now splayed across the room.

(more…)

When I Become a Mother

This poem is not to say that women are victims and men are perpetrators; this poem is in response to a conversation with my other female friends, through which we realized that all our lives, we’ve been taught to fear of strangers, men, darkness, being alone, etc. 

.

When I Become a Mother

When I become a mother,
I won’t teach my daughter
to fear the night or expect a knight
because it just ain’t right.
.
When I become a mother,
I won’t teach my daughter
to avoid wearing short skirts and walking alone
or to fake-talk on the phone.
.
When I become a mother,
I won’t teach my daughter
to think she has to follow a set of guidelines
and be restricted by social signs.
.
When I become a mother,
I won’t teach my daughter
to believe that she should be afraid,
and her body and love is a trade.

(more…)

Drowning Voices

Drowning Voices

He made fun of me for not shaving my legs.

It was 6th grade.

He made fun of my flat chest.

He called them fried eggs because they were so flat.

She made fun of my hair.

She said they made my face look long.

She made fun of my flannel shirt.

She said it was stupid.

He said I was too big,

and that I took up too much space.

(more…)

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