A face with a story, bare feet, callous curls, clavicles because clavicles are beautiful, the first rays of the sun on brown eyes, dried sunflowers in a vase, unread letters on the night stand, unsent letters in the sock drawer, midnight oil, a poetry book on the empty side of the bed, a Lana Del Rey song, a poem forgotten, a poem choking in the throat, a head full of dreams, head on a pillow that smells of cologne, chipped porcelain teacups because they are imperfect, the whiskey in them, another Lana Del Rey song, atoms of love, a hungry stomach, the contradiction, food for the soul, a hungry heart, a wild heart, a broken heart, the light, the healer in a white shirt and big hoops, the slow and the furious, the forgotten but so unforgettable, the wilting, the healing, the blooming. There are many metaphors that I could use to describe who I am. But that’s poetry no man ever wrote for me.So this is me. I am a woman who loves making big lunches, baking cakes and cookies, making art, painting furniture, working out because hello mid-life crisis, loves being mommy, spending time with her kids, holding hands with her man, drinking wine, singing and dancing every weekend. My other magical abilities include writing poetry. I am the author of four poetry books. My words center around love, loss, healing, grief, intimacy and femininity. Did I mention intimacy?