After all, there are over 50 different forms of poetry and those do not include obscure, region-based forms.

You will ask her to bow and she will climb. You will ask her to crawl and she will rise. You will ask her to die and she will be reborn. You will bury her and she will grow.

Poems from the heart, about the heart

She chose poorly, didn’t she?

The way I think about biology is that I want to write an anatomy book but all the parts of my body are just labeled “something for you to forgive.”

Everyone knows a dog will still love its owner despite cruelty, neglect, and abuse and in this you find hope that I can still love you too.

He pushed her towards the wall,
On his neck, she breathed a sigh.
And when her hands pulled his shirt down,
Her lipstick stained his lips, made him high.

Every word printed onto these pages came from a dark place within myself. Excruciating pain consumed my being for the longest time. I know the bottom of depression’s pit all too well.

Where did the year go?

“i am a feminist” and spit
on their wounds,
drag their bodies across the earth
until they revert into mud.