A Montage of Sorts...
Help, I keep writing and thinking no one will read it. How can they if I never share it?
Hi Friend,
Most of these are bits and pieces of my pieces. Let’s just get right into it, shall we?
Scene One: She Rambles
My name is Crystal. I like to write shit…well, not actual shit, mostly poems and prose. I get nervous when I consider sharing my own uninhibited work because I have this relentless need for approval that I hate to admit to having because I’ve been trying to break it ever since I learned that I developed it. While writing this, I started to wonder if I’d passed that on to my son. He’ll be five soon (that’s crazy as hell I been doing this for that long) and to stay motivated to complete tasks he hates or really just finds intense or challenging he is constantly seeking approval. I have a hard time accepting when someone tells me I’m a good mom, even though I know for a Fendi fact that I work hard to be…most of the time.
Scene Two: Pick Your Poison
In all my years of drinking, Prosecco has never failed me.
During the time I spent miles away from home
and worlds away from my culture comforts
I acquired a taste for the sharp and sassy bubbly liquid
She flirted with my taste buds
Citrus-lined kisses staining my lips
She danced on my tongue
Gyrating her hips against my emotions
Tribbing our lips til the early morning
When she floated away around 6am
I was left nauseous yet filled with longing
Before parting ways she tossed in the air
She’ll return when I can tamper my yearning
Scene Three: Morning Musings
I am rebuilding
Nah, let’s just call it a renovation. Yeah.
I am renovating
Forgive me as I work through my jealousy
Developing compassion for self is my latest innovation
I see my friends earning wins, gains, and other forms of appreciation
And while it may sting a bit
I’m not distraught with envy, at least not in this moment
Obsessing over the question of when my ship will come in.
Some seasons ask questions and other seasons answer
Word to Ms. Zora, this season is my reckoning
Bitch, I swear it better be.
Scene Four: Afternoon Wandering
My ancestors whisper prayers for me
They float on the breeze between these mossy trees
Their uplifting words guide and comfort me
Prayers of success
Prayers for ease
Wiping sorrowful tears from my eyes
Reminding me to breathe
Wishes that I’m not blinded by my quest for healing
That I don’t lose myself in the fuck ups
Guiding me through trials
Lifting my chin to look up
In the trees I see great things move slowly
In my moments of weakness
These lessons are timely


Beautiful read. Your win(s) are on the way. Sooner than you know.