I once voted for a villain
to make someone else happy.
This someone convinced me
People misunderstood the villain.
The person I made happy?
He still bitched.
He still complained.
He still felt lonely and misunderstood.
He still had an icy heart
and didn't give a flying fuck about my grand gesture.
He said he wanted me to stay liberal.
He enjoyed challenging my point of view.
But I don't argue when we clearly do not see
eye to eye.
I was just his leftist punching bag.
And somehow,
He still had my heart.
Buggin' By: Samantha Jean Tate
Oh man, I'm totally buggin'.
I failed my driver's test again.
This time I didn't quit.
I just drove until I almost got hit.
I'm totally buggin'
How else am I supposed to go to the concert?
I guess I'll have to sell the tickets,
Cancel my hot date.
Buggin' was not in my fate.
Chasing Sparks By: Samantha Jean Tate
I no longer chase sparks,
I chase connection.
I chase authenticity.
I'm looking for realness.
I'm seeking that wildfire,
Someone who knows how to start my fire,
And put it out.
I'm looking for magic
in a mundane world.
I'm looking for starlit dinners,
And serenades under the moonlight.
Slow dancing in the kitchen
Making pancakes at 3 AM
Lying in lavender fields
Talking about life.
I'm no longer chasing sparks.
I'm chasing a flaming passion.
Samantha, Unboxed By: Samantha Jean Tate
I spent forty years
Trying to fit myself
Into neat, tiny, little boxes
For society's sake.
I wasn't just Samantha.
I was—
Samantha, the career woman.
Samantha, the autistic woman.
Samantha, the single woman.
Samantha, the beautiful woman.
Samantha, the mediocre woman.
I was a
Fat woman.
A get healthy woman.
That McDonald's chick.
That spinach-loving freak.
I wore these costumes
Stitched too tight.
I was the aunt.
The baby sister.
The daughter.
The granddaughter.
The niece.
The cousin.
The friend.
The enemy.
The lover.
Every role handed to me,
like womanhood was a checklist.
As if my worth was only real,
When it had a name to it.
But underneath these skin-tight costumes,
there's just me—
a woman who will return to stardust one day.
And be nothing.
But time and space.
Her Magic Still Lingers By: Samantha Jean Tate
Her magic still lingers
In his heart.
Her spells still linger
In his chest
Like butterflies.
Her whimsy still fascinates
Him and perplexes
Him.
Her laughter rings through
His ears.
He's still in love with her.
Her sorcery and all.
My Friend Hope
By: Samantha Jean Tate
I ran into my old friend Hope.
She was still the same.
Long, sunshine hair
Wearing a flowy dress
Like Florence Welch.
She was still the
Rose-colored glasses
Starry-eyed optimist.
"How do you keep going?" I asked her.
She pulled me close -
Her floral perfume lingered, lilac scent filled the air.
"People think I'm all rose-colored glasses and glittery dreams", she smirked, like she knew a secret.
"But the truth is," she leaned in and her voice grew softer,
"I break down too. I get tired. I'll stare out the window sometimes and feel...nothing."
She glanced at the ground, twisting a ring on her finger.
"It's not all bad. Cynicism keeps me grounded. Realism reminds me I'm alive."
I ran into my old friend Hope.
She enlightens me and encourages me to keep going.
Even when the world isn't listening,
When I am numb to my environment—
Like when the world is moving fast and I'm stuck on pause,
Or I want to end it all.
Hope is not a person.
She is
Me.
It Feels Good By: Samantha Jean Tate
It feels good
Not to have you in my life anymore
Finally, I am free to be me
Be the person I actually am
Don't have to hide or put up a facade
It feels good
To miss you
But no longer want you
It feels good that you've moved on
I've moved on too
I've chosen myself
It feels good
To no longer have to deal with sarcasm and attitudes
And disingenuous applause
It feels good
That I've finally chosen me!
Time to Move on
By: Samantha Jean Tate
"It's time to move on," she said as she woke up and rose out of bed.
"I'm done grieving, I'm tired of feeling hurt, I'm tired of letting betrayal take power away from me," she said as she looked in the mirror, washing her face, getting the sleepy bugs out of her eyes.
"It's time for me to live. It's time to get out of survival and time to live in thrive-al."
She brushed her teeth, washed up, and put on her clothes. She was ready to embrace the day with courage. She had enough of crying and feeling lonely. She did enough grieving. She did enough sobbing. She did enough feeling sorry for herself.
Here she was, ready to face whatever the day brought to her.
She set her intention to find joy in life without him.
She was ready.
It was time to move on.
And she encourages you to move on, too.
Because she is me.
Which poem resonated with you the most? What was your favorite line? Drop me a comment and let me know! I'd love some feedback!
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