When does sexism and harassment in the workplace stop being a joke?  When is it ever a joke?

Can’t Make Up My Mind

No, he is not a piece of me,
I am whole without him.
To define me within his borders 
is to misinterpret my weakness.
He is not my hair, or my
weight loss, or my taste in 

Responsibility for my feelings
are mine to bear, my reactions
belong to me.

Yes, though I tremble
in his sight - he is not
to blame.
The ‘he’ I refer to is
no more.

'He' is buried beneath summer
pipe dreams I shamefully
conveyed in hopes that he
would one day
notice my disheveled hair
and perceive the mess that
I am and decide to learn me.


There is a fifth season,
marked by torture,
emptier and heavier than winter
that no hibernation
can escape.

I feel it closing in on me as he leaves.

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B, I miss you. Even though I try to mask it with okayness, you know we are far from “okay”. I am so disappointed in you.

I get words now, because I know how much they
mean to me when they aren’t said.

Heaps and loads.

lunar ray

you’re not my enemy and you’re not my friend
no clear answers
time stops to mock me,
reveling in my argumentative state

if i flail my arms they will know
if i stutter i am speaking my own language - 
don’t interrupt my method
i can feel my flesh hate me,
wanting and not getting,
feeling, and not discerning

though i’m wobbly, i am not a 
constant mixture of assorted things

but my weaknesses are mine
they belong to me
leave me with them
let me be

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I love that the first thing you’ve said since we last talked is “do you want a sandwich” no shut up I want my heart back dummy

When you realize your desires are your desires, and not the LORD’s.

Missing the Point

It really works out this way,
you whistling unfamiliar tunes,
walking in no particular direction
and I sense your aimlessness as a
cry for guidance that is unheard by many

But I catch it through your silence
and lately I’ve been discounting it,
just as you’ve been ignoring me
Why is it that you’re in the wrong
and I’m the one getting punished?

I have no answer except I think it a hint is
found in the fact that you felt like a Friday,
but you turned out to be a Monday
I treated you like the weekend - my favorite,
filled with expectations too wild to come true

Much to your surprise and later resentment I grew
partial to your mysteries which turned out to be
dullness disguised as perplexities I wanted to study - 
my diligence found you out

In the end, I’ve learned to not be monstrous
even in the toughest of days
and that no bet is a safe bet

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