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A stereotypical struggling writer of prose, poetry and the occasional piece of passable erotica.

Open.

Andre moved behind me and gently slid my hair to one shoulder, dragging his lips and tongue along my neck. I shivered and thanked him. I’d wanted him since this morning when I’d awoken and felt him feverish and ready against my hip, but denied myself the gift, eager to get home to a man I wasn’t sure was mine anymore.More

Unleash.

It took me longer than most to define real love for myself. Give me tasty food … then a movie and cuddle in bed and I’m all yours. Introverts are simple that way. But, it took a lot of soul searching plus copays before I got there. Before thenMore

Again.

my identity your intensity
as it slips
between your lips
a lyric
in rhythm
with your hipsMore

All.

give me all of you
the beauty, the beast
the scars across your soul
the heat of your anger and defeatMore

Spice.

I am not sugar and spice and everything nice
I come from women
who never asked twice
All bullets and vice and daggers and dice
The kind who’d answer
your slap with a sliceMore

Unformed.

There it bides; untouched, untyped
slamming against bone and boredom
stalking, storming, writhing, waiting….More

Restless.

A prompt poem that I found way more fun than I probably should have. Thank you for reading you lovely thing finding beauty in simple spaces.More

Another.

I’m lucky enough to have an amazing partner who calls himself a feminist. This little dose of sadness with sarcasm is for those who think feminist is just another F word. Thanks for reading you brave and beautiful beasts unafraid to stand up for those simply asking for equality.More

E-Flash Me, Baby.

It’s 2008. The iPhone is a thing now. On the BART train to and from San Francisco, more and more people stare down into card decks made of glass and plastic, tapping on and swiping through tunes, or flicking things into other things to score points. Everyone who has one of these new toys takes a picture of everything. My coworker is doing an entire series on his shoes. No one ever asks if you’re cool with being a backdrop, so I get my picture taken more often than I prefer. Luckily, my friend Will taught me how to look like a deranged criminal in every one of them.More