Being intentional about our featured images — The human brain can identify images seen in as little as 13 milliseconds. And just as quickly as the human brain identifies those images, they can immediately affect us emotionally. Images have the power to inspire, empower, excite, and delight us, affecting us more than words ever can. Not only…

Poetry — Attempts at inner peace end when old lovers knock loudly at my door Have you not learned how to enter sacred spaces? First, you must ask permission to enter After all, you’re the reason you’re not welcome anymore No need to knock; your voice holds a key to my memory Unlocked…

Reflections on my writing journey — When I started publishing my work on Medium over a year ago, I explored the platform, closely looking at the work of other writers. The featured images were the first thing I noticed before reading the content of any story or before reading the audience-grabbing titles. Images of white women…

When it comes to love, trust in the universe’s divine timing — I opened my arms up to the universe and asked, can you please send me a husband? I want someone to love, support, and hold. I also want someone to support, love, and hold me.” The universe responded, “This is not the right time for romantic love. …

Poetry — I’d hope you’d drop the anchor as your ship headed toward mine In the middle of the night, as summer night’s moon cleared the skies And when sunlight came, you were there, standing tall before the bow I couldn’t tell if you could see me seated low behind the clouds …

Poetry — Summer night’s moon casts its shadow Through my window, as I bathe in roses and bay leaves. Candles lit, dancing wicks reflected in porcelain glass. Oils hug my skin. I close my eyes and sleep Steeped in my thoughts of you. Ashamed to say I’ve been waiting for you Summer…

“Amidst experiencing what would’ve been the hottest moment of my life, the bed tipped downward toward the ground” — He kissed my neck as one hand moved from my hips overtop the curves of my waist — it felt like gentle jolts of electricity pulsated through my body. When his hand made his way up to my chin to cup my face, he whispered, “I have to go get…

Poetry — Are you an artist? he asked as I sat at the fountain’s edge. And it was then I wondered how a stranger understood me more than a lover ever had He came in the shadows, walking slowly to where I stayed, by the orange-yellow lights dancing in the singing sprinkling…

Poetry — I like that we go slow- ly your hands press my neck as I inhale deeply, the other hand moves, up and down my I like that we go slow- ly, frustratingly stopping myself from continuing this fantasy of you because falling for you would be like falling into quicksand …