What signifies being enough?
Why aren’t I?
The white ones laugh because I sound like them.
But I don’t look like them.
The black ones cringe because I look like them.
But I don’t act like them.
The employer sighs because I fit the mold.
But I’m a woman.
The boy leaves because he took what he wanted.
But he never wanted me.
What signifies being enough?
Why aren’t I?

Goodbye You

7 months later and I realize I’ve been lying to myself. I thought I was over you. Looking at your pictures, at your words and I wouldn’t feel anything. In my drunken state I saw you in person for the first time and didn’t feel anything. But I heard about how you’re trying to date again and I felt something. 

I meant it when I said I wanted you to be happy. I still mean that. But I’m a little sad. And I shouldn’t be. Because you didn’t do anything wrong. Feelings or lack thereof for someone can’t be controlled. I would never force you to want to be with me. But I guess in our short time together, I had hoped I was enough that eventually we would be. Even if it took a slow burning journey to get there.

Now I can’t help but wonder what that short time together meant to you. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. But not enough that puts me in the running. That’s the worst part.

I’m never enough for someone to want to get to know. You stopped anything before it could get started which again, I understand. You weren’t ready. But now you are? Your brother doesn’t seem to think so. He wants you to be happy too and you’re free to do what you want. But I think you run away from your feelings. And I don’t just mean with me, I mean in general. 

I really do mean it when I say I want you to be happy. And I want you (if that’s what you want) to find someone good who will make you happy. Now I know that that’s not me and it makes me a little sad but I have to let you go. 

you barely touched me that night
i blamed it on the heat
i was wrong
you were bracing yourself
finding ways to lead me to the edge
without pushing me over

too bad i had already fallen

Love: A Question of Importance

“‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” – Alfred Lord Tennyson

I was thinking about this quote recently and wondered why society places so much importance on this concept in regards to romantic love. According to the Ancient Greeks, there are seven types of love. They go as follows: eros, philia, storge, agape, ludus, pragma, and philatuia.

Eros is erotic or sexual love. Philia is the love between friends or platonic love. Storge is the love between parents and their children. Agape is love that is universal. It is akin to the modern day concept of altruism. Ludus is playful love. This type of love is casual and uncommitted. Pretty much like online dating it seems. Pragma is a practical type of love. It is based more off of the long term interests between all parties involved. Consider it the opposite of Ludus. Last but not least, Philatuia is self-love.

So if there are other types of love that can be had between one another or even within oneself, why does the notion of being single come with negative connotations? Have you ever been asked why you were single? As if there is something wrong with the fact that you don’t have a romantic partner(s). Why does it matter so much to other people? If it mattered to you, I would think you would do something to change that but if you don’t care, why do others?

I’ve never been in love. Sure I’ve had stupid crushes and infatuations with men in the past but never love. I had hoped my feelings would be requited and then together we could grow to love one another. Does that mean something is wrong with me that I’ve never experienced love and essentially the heartbreak that comes with it? Mind you, I love love. I think it’s terrifyingly beautiful. As scared of it as I am, I still want it. But I’m also okay with not experiencing it. I don’t think I will wither away to nothing if romantic love never happens to me. Why? Because I know and appreciate the other forms of love in which I give and receive. But why is this not acceptable to other people?

I’m curious to know what other people think.


You’re a boat in the middle of the ocean
Drifting further and further away from land
From me

There’s a long rope to pull you back in
But I’m struggling by myself

I wonder if I’ll ever see you again
If you’ll ever come back
But you won’t


To The Boy Who Ghosted Me

For someone in their early thirties, it’s difficult for me to refer to you as a man. A man faces the fear of what scares him the most: his emotions. I understand though, you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Guess what? That’s a bullshit excuse. Face me like a man. Tell me you’re no longer interested in pursuing whatever this might have been. Don’t get my hopes up only to crush them with the silent treatment.

I never should have given that dating (hooking up) app another chance. That was my first mistake in this case. The second was falling for your black and white words. Thinking that the fact both of our fathers were dead connected us. I should have remembered what happened the last time I talked to a boy with a dead relative. He got my body and all I got was silence.

I thought this time would be different. That’s the age old problem. You don’t think the next time will be different. No. You hope it’ll be. But you’re just like the other boys.

Only worse.

You didn’t fool me into giving you my body. We never got to that point. I only had your words. Not even your voice. That’s the sad part. Because I got caught up in your words. And I started to believe you.

But you’re not completely in the wrong here. Sure you disrespected me and provided no closure. But I also let my worry for your absence show a side of me that I am not. For that I apologize.

To the boy who ghosted me:

Thank you for showing me that any further pursuit of you would have ended badly in the long run. Thank you for confirming that dating apps just aren’t for women like me. The independent. The strong. The lonely. The hurt. The risers.

To the boy who ghosted me:

I hope you’re honest with the next woman. I hope she realizes her worth. Because she deserves more than words on a screen. She deserves more than unanswered questions. She deserves more than silence.

She deserves a man.


Paper thin but carries so much weight
Burdens my mind with unnecessary worth
Green causes me to see red
Fire exploding in my mind
Building up to the point of all around exhaustion
Red sometimes changes to blue
When I think no more can be taken from me
They flow down my face until I can’t breathe
Blue goes to black
Quiet and empty and asleep
Finally it all ends until the next cycle hits
Never have I ever seen white