an open letter

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Dear Individual Who has Found Themself Perusing My Medium Page, Please, if the intentions behind your presence fit within any of the following:

1) You’re on this platform for the exclusive purpose of self-promoting without supporting other writers;

2) To offer cheap, poorly written “self-help” or “self-development”…


a poem

Photo by Dori Bano on Unsplash

Trigger Warning: This poem includes depictions of assault and may be distressing for victims of sexual abuse and/or stalking.


at least, not in this instance (a poem)

Photo by Aziz Acharki on Unsplash

Foodlion parking lot, I remember
the first time my mother told me
I didn’t have a home
Not with her, at least, not with
pill bottles stacking up like
stone sculptures, multiplied
by a bathroom mirror and
I wonder why I always
have to leave…


a poem about chronic pain (inside and out)

Photo by Rafay Ansari on Unsplash

Sometimes, I think, if I just lay still enough,
quiet , motionless ,
the pain won’t find me
where I sleep.
Well ,
external pain (of course).
Inside, I’ll forever be an empty echo
clanking about a steel hall.
I’ll always feel it rushing out,
redacted,
like a breath,
lost…


a poem

Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

Pluck, baby, bend me
like one of your guitar strings
I say, I never seen
someone quite like you —
blue, them baby blues, you
got a fire that got me
hot, bothered; I can count the
breaths on my neck
I can feel the circles around
my head, whisky spin —
I am fifty shades of fucked…


a poem

Photo by Yousef Espanioly on Unsplash

There was a time when I
hated my sister for blowing
the candles out sooner
Now, each March, I recall
shared birthday parties
never worth attending:

Not in my father’s eyes
nor my mother’s, again
I remember what’s it like
to have never been wanted.

I trace the…


a poem

Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash

I do not want to converse right now.
I want to be angry.
The bottle is filling, filling up
Accumulate until I finally explode.

BAM! POW! BANG!

The guts of my thoughts

SPLATTER!

Change not content
for the sake of measure
I have grown faint from adapting

My…


another love poem

Photo by Nicolas Ladino Silva on Unsplash

A voice that blends
from cool and quaint
to bold and brave
Soft and smooth
in all he speaks

With cigarette in hand
hope in my pocket
I finally felt
his ribbon mouth

His hands found
the small of my back
and the nape
of my neck


a poem ‘cause we’ve all been there

Photo by Syarafina Yusof on Unsplash

Honestly, I’m a bit satisfied
that your beer belly
came back with
vengeance . . .
And, I’m not sorry that
I don’t feel
[not in the slightest]
guilty.

No, not after you used
the callous of your veins,
your “generosity”
as woolen clothing,
[hiding your teeth]
to coax my spine into an arch,
a curve…

Stephanie Blossoms

Poet, writer, artist, gardener, devout reader, former chef-wannabe, using words and paints to figure out her place in the world.

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