I clutch my independence when I should hold it tenderly instead.

Open to the possibility,

That it could change,

But not needing to know that at this time. 

I no longer need to be heeded, but understood without words.

It’s an essence of connection that exists or just doesn’t, 

No need to force it or coerce it.

But to touch someone’s heart and feel nothing at all.







(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)

F*ck Odds

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I met Ramona almost a year ago and was assigned to be her mentee.

I wanted more in life.

I thought I would “give back.”


Little did I know.

Becoming a mentor has taught me so much about perspective.

So much about gratitude.

So much about life.

A mentee/mentor relationship is one of

Learning, understanding and compassion.

Aka I’m educated, I gather and I gain knowledge I would never have without sitting down and talking with Ramona. 

We don’t come from similar backgrounds, but we connect.

We love, we laugh and we hold each other to a higher standard.

I was instructed to help her get on her feet after a tough time.

She lifts me, each and every day with her positivity, love and zest for life.

The odds are against her, but that the things with odds, they don’t matter when you see beyond them. 

Fuck odds.

And embrace uncertainty.

She trusts 100% that she is exactly where she needs to be at all times. 

That is presence.

And I’m proud to know her. 

We make a good team.

Being a mentor has been the best decision I’ve ever made—cheers to building brighter futures with connection, stories and a smile.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)


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We are all running;

Out of time,

Out of presence,

Out of love.

But to slow down, 

Is to show up;

In time,

In this moment,

In kinship: With ourselves, 

And each other.

Regardless of difference. 

Because to listen to one’s words does not cost a penny.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)

Head & Hearts Aligned in Time

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Nearly a year later and the feelings still flicker 

At times they wane

At moments they wander

But it’s mostly you I ponder.

I wonder what it would feel like to know you were mine.

To hang around your family

And wake up next you on a Monday morning,

Watch you get ready for work;

While I sit writing,

About that time I tried to convince you over a beer that it was just fear

{Before I knew better to convince a man of my magic}

I reminded you that dating was not marriage 

And if you could just indulge me for a moment

we would fall into a heap,

Of love,

And lust 

For fun, a test run of what could be.

The feelings you evoke are dangerous so you will remain nameless.

Our union, 

a touch and go of things I wish I did and didn’t say 

But my heart, it holds a special  place, a back shelf, for your sentiments.

I know, 

you won’t always sit in a shed at the back of my head.

One day, 

in my bed, a duo

2 hearts heaped together. 

Our heads and hearts finally aligned 

The date it to be determined, 

but its fate,

it’s not too late, 

To let me write a story worth committing for. 

Save Your Selfie

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We wandered around Brooklyn and ate brunch at Sweet Chick

And drank bloody Mary’s that made me mad.

Mad at you for letting me go, 

mad at myself for making this more than it was, but mostly mad at God for making you matter to me. 

When we broke up I remember everything I hated in you, I actually hated in myself. 

And that realization is what broke me open

to a world of knowing myself.

And meeting true loneliness in each moment.

You were my vehicle for meeting God in everything around me.

To realize I didn’t hate you,

I hated me, 

But without you, 

I only had me to rebuild.

I came to understand nothing had ever mattered and that my means had measured our relationship.

I often wonder what it’d be like to be friends now, but I hate to beat a dead horse more than I already did that day in August,

or that terrible December weekend,

or that DC night that turned into Compass Coffee and breakfast you didn’t buy.

That same morning we walked down 7th street and said “I guarantee you’ll be married in 2 years” as if marriage was the solution to the void in my chest.

Two years later, no marriage in sight and more whole than I’ve ever been. 

You don’t need a man to save you, do yourself a favor and save your own damn selfie.

The Other Side of Broken


No beauty will ever bring you back 

Because your falling to the wayside 

Was apart of the puzzle

For me

& you. 

I no longer linger in the intricacies of your mind

And it may seem foreign to unknow someone, but I unknow you so well now.

I don’t wake up wishing you were by my side

I said no to your advances in a dream last week;

A first. 

The pieces connecting us for so long 

Finally got misplaced

And I cried old tears.

{Vintage tears from our season of subtleties only true love can appreciate}

But those nuances are not ours now

Other lovers hold what made us special

Our love is back into the ether of others

And that’s the beauty of lust

It’s so ever present and then so fleeting as if to guide us to our real purpose

To help us overcome

To help us dive deep

Into the underworld of our souls 

And through sheer broken ness you learn how to rebuild your heart and your home 

And the mementos of a man make you smile 

But they don’t move you.

You learned how to stop rearranging for others.

Cause the perfect fit to your puzzle was never a man to love you. 

It was perspective;

To accept the imperfectly perfect. 

To hold your own heart 

With abandon and trust

To cultivate an inner inertia stronger than a persons presence.

The other side of broken is perspective; the closest thing to true love you’ll ever find.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)



Learn the rules so we can break them, together.

The old doctrine is outdated. 

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

People will tell you it must be done this way, but if you have a better way to do it;

Speak up. 

Or leave

and start your own company.

Canis was developed because the conventional model of self help is based off of evoking shame so that people feel they NEED you. 

You don’t need me, but I will empower you to want change. 

I don’t operate off people’s insecurities. 

My business thrives off helping people cultivate inner peace thru fitness, nutrition and mindfulness through education, consistency and a desire to change.

It’s a group effort.

Canis will give you the tools, but you must be willing to do the work.

Change is not easy. 

Anyone who tells you that just wants your money.

I want your word, your attention and intention to change the world.

That change begins with your openness to shift your internal world.

{Thanks to everyone who has supported me along the journey so far—Canis is celebrating a year of  being a badass female owned and operated wellness company} For more information on how you can work with me check the link in my bio.

I am the finest Egyptian cotton

I buy the cheapest sheets 

To ensure you don’t get too comfortable for the wrong reasons

I am the finest Egyptian cotton.

My skin is the only thread count you need 

I don’t want you to love my things

Belongings loose their shine unless they are constantly upgraded.

I want you to love the cracks in between

Because one day those cracks will make their way to my face

And if the depths are what you loved first

You’ll never stop loving me.

Maybe it’s selfish for me to request you meet my darkness 

But trust me:

Beauty fades; light illuminates shadows if you move in the right direction.

Some say it’s linear, I say it’s lunar.

Find someone who transforms their shadows into the sun; 

with a smile on a Sunday morning.

That will be more than enough for a lifetime.

A smile showing teeth is so much sweeter than your sheets count.

{You’ve spent so much time wishing for a soulmate.

But all along, you were seeking your soul, mate.}

A City of Faith


If I could create 

A City of Faith

I’d  break you down 

My heart would be found

Just with the sound

Of a City of Faith 

Compass of mine 

Show me a time 

On the arm of dime

That would make me a believer

In the City of Faith 

I’m looking for a duo of destiny making the rest of me a sinner of fate

Alone at the gate 

My reflection I don’t hate

Cause my compass guides me strong and my mind worked her insides along

The Cosmic North is my leader 

To feed her, the path ain’t linear but it ages gracefully, it’s got lineage and that’s my pledge.

I follow my heart 

To create the art 

Of my creative compass 

Your creative compass

You, I, us, one.


{I wrote this when I was down south and all I could think about was Aretha Franklin singing this in a deep, guttural, and soulful manner. Sometimes I have the slightest idea where my words come from}

Pain is Perspectives Best Friend.


I heard this guy in a coffee shop this morning talking with his boss about a girl.

He said he was going to end things, but didn’t want to be honest in fear that he would hurt her feelings.

He mentioned that with holding the truth would protect her emotions.

I had to hold myself from interjecting, but a sinking feeling filled my body.

I wanted to say “to withhold the truth in order to protect someone’s emotions is bullshit. We grow through the highs and the lows of life, not being honest with someone so they avoid the pain of heartbreak is a disservice. Pain is a vehicle, pain is a teacher and overcoming pain will be one of the greatest lessons we learn in life. Life is full of heartache and the cold hard truth is one hell of a catalyst. Experiencing pain provides a perspective to appreciate life’s highs and life’s lows.”

But instead I sipped my coffee & let him create his own pain pathway because learning the hard way is usually what makes you change

16 year old self.

 Photo: Age 16, middle of a Maine winter.

Photo: Age 16, middle of a Maine winter.

I remember a beautiful older girl turning to me in the bathroom “you’d look really sexy smoking a cigarette."

I had just spent the whole summer running 3 miles everyday, doing hundreds of sit ups and following a rigorous eating schedule to loose 5 pounds my frame didn’t need to drop.

I was 15 and had yet to start wearing mascara.

I wanted to be a natural beauty, someone who sparkled without the help of a contour and a smoky eye.

I hated facades even before I knew what they were. “But you should wait, I think it’s cool you don’t want to smoke.”

A few weeks later I puffed my first cigarette, puked off the side of my friends golf cart and fell to the ground.

Is this what she meant by sexy?

We’ve heard so many messages from such an young age; about what is sexy, desirable, ok to feel, NOT ok to touch, but have you ever stopped to think about whether or not you still agree with those subtle subconscious stories?

Or are you still taking the advice of your 16 year-old self?

At 16, I thought I would never have a boyfriend, was a relative of the orca whale family, and that if I didn’t stop growing taller I would for sure end up in Coney Island freak show.

Does that little girl sound like she knows what she’s talking about? Absolutely not. If the stories you tell yourself haven’t evolved since puberty, it’s probably time you start rearranging the small talk inside your mind.

Consider the possibility that what you say to yourself has the potential to perpetuate peace.

Inner peace for outer peace. It’s possible. It starts with YOU.

27; A Promise Land of Perspective

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I went to a bar last night

A bar I used to go to when I was 22

When I could hide behind my college boyfriend,

to escape the wandering hands of waning youth 

And we'd meet his friends in Columbia Heights and take the metro to save money

When pre-gaming a bar was a weekend occurrence 

And I drank vodka sodas, not for the taste but to tamper down the roars of my soul

Because it spoke so strongly 

And I had yet to realize being desired would not cure the dizziness in my mind. 

I still don't know why I'm here, but I do know stuffing my sanctuary with shiny things will not make me better

Than him,

Than you,

Than the man on the streets

Or the distraction in my sheets,

I do know;

I am warrior, 

I am a light, 

and I will always be more of a Manhattan maiden; sipping slowly, sweetly around the company of spirits.

When you're 22, you think your first love will be your only love.

And that craft beers are a right of passage.

And having money for brunch is the epitome of a good weekend.

But your 20's provide you with lessons.

A crumpled map that's fucking hard to read, but you will learn

Food cooked at home tastes like maturity 

And too many craft beer will make you fat.

But mostly, you will learn

that there was nothing to loose, all along, only a second self to be found; within.

Sometimes the path of a pondering mind is lonely, but I trust my patience will provide a paradise.

A promise land of perspective 

And not a purgatory of pumpkin beer

Last night I stepped back in time, just in time; to feel thankful for 27.

(Published on November 17, 2017 on Thought Catalog)


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Must be nice to sit in a bed of disconnection 

To do; without consequence

to the feelers you come into contact with.

Oblivion is the disease of division (detachment)

For heeding attention would hold you responsible 

To others sentiment 

But to feel is to hold the weight of the world and more.

And sometimes it's hard to breath.

And a hat and sunglasses is my only medicine.

Cause emotions become manifested in physical malady.

Because the feelers feel it all, 

while you button up your collard shirt, pour yourself coffee, and plug into your wifi weaknesses.

I envy detachment, but I dont envy 

that partition between your heart and your mind 

It will buy you time

But happiness will be hard to find

For you,

I have faith and faith is just as powerful as action, if you believe. 

I trust because that's the only option when you're a feeler. 

You hold the power to be a healer; to heal her.

So kneel here. Feel her. Heal here. 

The reunion of your heart and your mind and you will be mine in time.

It's Cuffing Season

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I tried him on for fits

Cause I need a fall jacket

I was little spoon 

A small sip to see if his body fit mine

As I lay in my head, plotting my departure, I pondered why he couldn't be my warmth for a season

Winter is coming and I'm sure to be cold

But the feelings didn't suffice 

As my best friend put it

"He's like a  North Face with a gray panel and a collar but you're looking for a waterproof Arcteryx"

I said "A Patagonia with breathable armpits, but I'm not picky"

But the latter is a lie because I am picky.

I don't choose who I like.

Sometimes I find the perfect jacket, but I'm not their fall fleece. 

Cause cuffing season is a runway for two. 

It's not always me, sometimes it's you. 

I don't need a fall jacket, 

I'm not trying anymore on, 

I'm sorry for making you my pawn

It's not nice to try you on, wake up at dawn and decide I want a Patagonia with breathable armpits.

But that's what I did, forgive me I'm still a kid. 

The only difference now is I don't want the jacket just cause it's cool, comfort is much more important these days.

{Ode to being warm with love and a good ole fashion breathable winter coat}

Me Too.

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I no longer swallow my words. 

I have clarity and ruminate on lost verbs; running, chasing, hiding my true adjectives; beautiful, brave, deserving that got buried underneath your judgement.

For I changed and filtered, cropped and toned myself for you and what I thought was a "Lo-Fi" on my life, the one I thought would go perfectly on a picture of us. 

But I was spared, cause my spirit cares a whole lot about my fate.

You're full of hate that you don't even realize is eons old and though you want it gone, it's yours to dawn.

Cause anger will linger unless you wrap it up

Wrap it with love and light to dissolve its daggers. 

It takes time, old shit lingers.

{Cause it's not your shadow, it's your old mans darkness and your old man's man's murk.}

That's the thing with hate, it's old and it was taught.

 It's time you come home, to your heart and to your hate because love will dissolve that fate. 

You no longer have to hold that tight, let it go into the light.

Now, I'm not coming back to your heart, I freed myself from your art, but do me a favor and let go of that ancestral anchor, it will free up space for your mind to tinker. 

On life, love and what it means to be alone. I think about you and prayer for you on your own. 

I no longer swallow my words.

I have clarity and it's only fair to me, to speak authentically without your heateries in mine.

Soul Sense

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Settling in matters of the heart is akin to digging an early grave for your soul. 

I rather wait a lifetime of aloneness,

Than slowly shovel my heart into a hole.

But be my guest, 

resolve and you shall see, 

the breakdown of a soul smarter than thee.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)

I cleaned house, so I can be home.

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I left for months.

The light was on, but no one was home.

My spirits vacates when it can no longer sit pretty and watch me live out of alignment. 

It's a fuck you to my highest self when I hear, but choose not to listen. 

But I came back.

There was a lot of cobwebs, old stuff to throw out, and stories that no longer rang true.

It's vital to trash what you no longer have room for. 

I cleared space in my heart & mind.

Some people got left behind.

I speak now with full range; sweetly & strongly. 

I cleaned house, so I can be home.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)

you only love me when you're drunk.

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There is no love in liquored words, only tales of a tall boy 

Canned or real

Why can't you feel 

With and without.

Those late night lies lined with hope become morning cries without comfort

Don't let your cocktales lead on another lady

Mean your moments like a man and share your hearts contents with a low leveled ABV.

I want you sobered words. 

I want your seltzer with a lime love.

(Do you want to publish this piece on your website? E-mail me for inquiries)

I smile when it rains

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I was drinking coffee with a friend on a dreary Tuesday 

He commented on the weather and how it was the best hazy day he's had in awhile 

I told him I used to feel sad when it rained because I thought the rain made everyone solem 

But then I met a man who loved the rain and said he was happiest when the sky was encapsulated by clouds

Now every time it rains I think of this man happy in his bed 

Protected by a bounty of blankets and the pitter patter of rain on his roof 

He changed my perspective so swiftly on a sulky Sunday 

And Sunday turned to Monday and every Day after that, if I see a rain cloud it doesn't shift my smile, it lifts my spirits.