Thrice atop tomorrow. Twice just yesterday. We are peach pit raw with wanting, and sculpted from clay. Charmed pink and tapping, nervous feet dancing, trust falling around God's maypole. A table for two becomes a battleground, wet and winded where my caved throat houses Thy name. God loves me I know because he told me to get on my knees and beg, pray for forgiveness then hang my head off the rusting truck bed. All the words God didn't say paint the clearest picture. Oh, how religion propels one to stay. I suck a plumb from the Garden of Eden off God's thumb & thank him for the treat. I am all the things God once loved written in honey mustard on a Roy Roger's receipt.
ESCAPRIL DAY ONE LETSSSS GOOOOOOO
I managed to stay creative long enough to get a poem out of me!
ICYMI, this month I’ll be participating in #escapril where I attempt to write poetry everyday based on prompts I forged from the internet. A nuxlocke for poetry, if you will.
At the end of the month, we’re going to see how many prompts I used, which poem used the most prompts, AND we’ll calculate which poets I’m most obsessed with based on how many of their prompts I used. If you’ve got #prompts, I wanna see them!!
Today’s poem was generously inspired by:
Lois Rose //
we are peach pit raw with wanting // charmed pink and tapping nervous feetAmy Elizabeth Vaughn // amyelizabethvaughn
pick me a plum from the garden of edenMax // braving.the.static
sculpted from claymy.tears.ricochet21
trust fallSaayansh Ahuja // thatdramaticpoet
table for oneCora //
wet and windedAlexis Mitchell // _lexmwrites
the cave of my throat houses your name // what propels you to stay? // all the words you didn’t say painted the clearest picture
If you liked this poem, stick around to see how Escapril treats me!
Now, let’s get to tracking.
Number of prompts used: 10
Poem with the most prompts: God Loved Me in a Roy Roger's Parking Lot
Day one poem taking the lead, prophetic.Most wrote After Poet: Alexis Mitchell // _lexmwrites
That’s all for the poetry today! Until tomorrow my friends (❀ˆᴗˆ),(•́ᴗ•̀✿),(づ˶•༝•˶)づ♡
Thank you for reading!
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In 2024, I self-published a book! After having my work featured in anthologies and textbooks nationwide, I took printing into my own hands and created bound evidence of my existence.
Content warning: this book contains the following triggers sexual abuse, sex and alcohol addiction, molestation, rape, miscarriage, domestic violence, emotional and mental abuse.
The Secrets My Skirts Keep is a love addiction poetry collection that takes the unturned stones left in one girl's past and flips them, exposing the filthy underbelly of sexual abuse, addiction, passion, and rage. We've all kept secrets that are too dirty to speak. We've all been strangers to ourselves. We stumble through life making the best decisions we can, and sometimes, even good people make bad choices. This collection of poetry and prose is a walk through time, personal space, and obligation; a exposition of the messiness of love.
This collection includes over 40 original poems featuring love, sex, addiction, abuse, and the lines we cross between humans as well as a list of poetry prompts based on individual pieces and themes.
You can read the description below:
I am a love addict.
Twelve-year-old me would read that and think “what a slut.” How can I blame her? She came from the you look prettier when you smile generation and grew up digging her nails into her dimples to hold her cheeks up.
That’s what happens when boys are boys.
For a long time, I refused to believe anything was wrong with me. How can there be anything wrong with love? Like fate, love comes with a line. You can twist and bend that line like a body. You can even convince the body that abusing it is love. It’s not long until the lines between love, abuse, fate, and the body become so blurred, there’s no way to tell them apart. After enough time, you can’t help but wonder:
at what point does one stop chasing love?
at what point do we stop needing it?
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