I’m very happy to share that my poem “Not a Good Idea” has recently been published in “For Those Who Despair”, an anthology by Sunday Mornings at the River.
It’s a poem about knowing something is probably wrong for you and wanting it anyway. That strange gap between what we understand and what we actually feel.
I seem to return to that gap quite often in my writing. The moments when we know we should walk away, let go, stop looking back. And yet something remains.
Sometimes it isn’t the big heartbreaks that stay with us most. It’s the smaller wounds. The things we barely notice when they happen, but somehow keep feeling long afterwards.
So I wanted to share “Not a Good Idea” alongside another poem, “Paper Cuts.”
Not a Good Idea
The phone pressed tight
against my ear—
close enough to hear you breathe.
Behind you, a room of clattering chairs;
legs scraping tiles.
In my small apartment nothing moved
only the window leaking March winds
into my hands.
I braced for it—
the words you’d finally say.
I didn’t want to hear them.
I couldn’t wait.
We were never a good idea,
and still—
I would have paid with my sleep.
I would have paid with my peace
just to keep you there.
You inhaled.
From the corner of the room
the window clicked once in the frame.
And then you said my name
the way people do
right before they leave.
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This anthology is full of amazing pieces. In this video, you can see me and other writers reading our texts from the project.
Paper Cuts
I squinted to read what you’d written in the margins of the notebook left by the bed. Paper cuts bloomed across my hands from sharp edges I didn’t see. I put my finger in my mouth, tasting metal, trying to stop the blood before it seeps into your words. But it didn’t matter. Blood found its way into the lines, loosening the ink until the words learned my name.
I think these two poems are interested in slightly different kinds of hurt. One lives in the moment when you already know better but haven’t quite managed to act on it. The other is about what lingers afterwards — the smaller cuts we carry with us long after we thought they had healed. Maybe that’s why some things are so difficult to leave behind. Knowing something is over doesn’t necessarily mean it stops hurting. What about you? Do you think the smallest wounds can sometimes stay with us longer than the big ones?
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