top of page

what is Rome

without a fall,

without men brandishing silvered daggers

to make them courageous

and make women swoon and stagger.

what is history without ancient texts

written in such plain reverence

of men and their deeds,

heroic and covered with scars and medals

riding on these majestic steeds/

what is a world without stories handed down

of men in boats, and wearing crowns,

professing their undying obsession

with women that they always seem to question

and abuse and gaslight and use

and yet cover their palms in emeralds and pearls?

what kind of world,

would that be? a world where women

finally broke those sparkling chains

and felt wild and free.

7 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

she takes pieces

of me, little by little little bites sinking into old wounds every time and I let her because just like the trees open their hands to the snow I do love the idea of dying slowly loved and afraid and b

all she does

is write little books, is what I heard the husband of a friend say once. that's all she does, all day he said and she laughed and I nodded and felt my shoulders sink and remembered her laugh as I sat

Valentines Day

Bring in your dead, she said. So I dragged my lovers out of the warm cocoons of my sheets out through my crooked legs and my sweat-soaked arms and watched as they clutched not at the bed, but at their

bottom of page