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I didn’t forget My childhood memories Of hiding my suffering Of silently struggling And endlessly wondering Why all this was happening Why God didn’t love me. I didn’t forget My years wandering, Of helplessly stumbling, Of hopelessly drowning And constantly questioning Why I was still hurting Why I couldn’t love me. I didn’t forget My…
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My partner gets anxious watching Gilmore Girls. Despite the quaint, small-town setting and low-stakes plot, he finds the frequent disagreements and quick-paced quipping to stressful. I, on the other hand, consider the show to be kind of peaceful escapism. In a way, this difference is the perfect summary of our family dynamics; his family makes…
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They’ll make you fight a thousand battles So that they can win the war By wearing down your armor And wearing out your sword. When the fighting’s finally over And their victory’s ensured, They’ll be no one left to remember What you were fighting for.
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My partner and I have been thinking about buying a house. There’s a little house in the center of town that’s been left empty for nearly 30 years. The house was built in 1905, then bought by a famous beauty school in 1965. As far as the county records show the building has been empty…
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I go through paper Like it grows on trees And I live in a forest. Putting pen to the page Is grounding in a way Typing is not. Paper grants the freedom To organize my thoughts Beyond the bounds Of pixels and bytes.
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Sometimes I am Ashley, and Sometimes Mae. I am one, I am none, I am both. My identity is complex and ever shifting with the seasons. Sometimes I am “Ashley”- the gifted middle child who overcame an unstable upbringing to become a successful business woman. Sometimes I am “Mae”- the impulsive creative with a Renaissance…
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I found the note you leftIn the book I lent you years ago.So long ago now,That I’d forgotten that you had borrowed it at all. I found the note you left,Tucked between the cover and the first page.So long ago now,That the pencil marks have almost faded away. I found the note you left,Back when…
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I broke my pinky finger once. I didn’t break the bone, but I tore a ligament pretty badly which required me to wear a splint on for a few weeks. It happened when I was back in college, working full time as a night-shift janitor. I was sleep deprived, and distracted because my on-again-off-again boyfriend…
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Sometimes I find myself thinking “I should be working” in the middle of work. I’ll be in the middle of research, or designing a newsletter for a client when the thought strikes. Logically, I understand that I am working but it’s as if my inherited Puritan work ethic refuses to acknowledge anything enjoyable as being…
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I’ve long suspected that I’d never live by The word. The pen is not the sword that cuts My path. It hangs on the wall as mere decoration Because I lack what it takes to Become The warrior poet
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Bringing Mae Flowers 