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I used to think monsters waded through the thick of night. They lurked in shadows with demonic  crimson eyes and horns that crowned them with sin. I thought they had teeth that tore innocent’s  flesh from their bones. I swore they hid in my closet or under my bed or stalked outside my  window, basking in stormy nights as the thunder masked their approach.   I was wrong.   Instead, they had eyes the color of ice and skin the shade of snow. They walked around in  flesh akin t

As I wiped away my tears and turned the final page of The Afterglow by Blythe Leigh Hart, I found myself yearning for a tattooed, actor boyfriend who rides a motorcycle and has a traumatic past and terrible reputation. Truly, everything about her MMC was so appealing even though he went against everything I have stood for in men. I've never been attracted to motorcycles, and as an LA native, I've been taught to steer clear from actors. Yet, there I was, twenty-four-years-old

This is a poem about leaving a toxic relationship.