Sometimes Women Lie About Being Okay

a poetry collection

Sometimes Women Lie About Being Okay is my most recent collection of poems, published in 2022 through Dustlings Press. It is about trying to hope after loss.

A few poems from the collection:

Notes From My Old Survival Guide

I’m sorry.
You’re right.
I’m sorry.
Yes. You’re right.
I get it. You’re right.
You’re right.
You’re right.
You’re right.
I’m sorry. You’re right.
I’m sorry.
Right.
Of course.
Yes.
You’re right.
No, it was me. It’s my fault.
I misunderstood.
I remembered it wrong.
You’re right.
Yes, I understand. You’re right.
You’re right.
You’re right.

I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry. 
I’m sorry. 

Grocery List Heretic

What would an honest poem
about marriage look like?
It would include your socks,
of course, scattered on the floor,
fueling stereotypes and memes
about men and marriage, but it
would also include the grocery lists
I text you, that you follow religiously,
and add to, heretically,
surprising me with my favorite things,
like yellow flowers and wine cheese,
dark chocolate, and most recently,
a Christmas tree. You never make me
feel like a burden that is too heavy to lift.

Before Even Getting to See Your Face

Today, I think I might lose you. 

I’m bleeding a little. They say
it’s nothing to worry about.
They say, it’s normal. But I
can’t help but see you 
slipping through my fingers
before even getting the chance
to kiss your face, smell your head,
and name you. Does it ever feel 
like Happiness is just holding 
her breath? That Joy, when she
comes in the morning, pours
the coffee with shaking hands?

I wonder if it ever get easier
to hope. 

Good Things That Are Still Good Even When Your Heart Is Breaking

The rabbit who lives in my yard
and comes out to eat his evening
meal of clovers at dusk.

The feel of a fresh notebook, 
smooth, stiff, blank, and eager.

Coffee.

Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.
Any flavor,
but mostly Half-Baked.

The lightings bugs who 
wait in the grass during the
day and come out at night
to wink their love.

Baby toes.

Baby giggles.

Baby wonder.

A brand new sweater
at the beginning of fall,
the kind you can lose 
your hands inside.

Kraft macaroni and cheese.

A text from my best friend.

A text from my mom. 

A text from anyone who is
not actively breaking my heart. 

New paints. 

You can purchase the collection here.