Meet Me in My Words:

Poetry

This poem is a meditation on survival as a natural law rather than a personal achievement. It looks to the living world—roots, seeds, stone, and wind—to explore how life persists in the harshest conditions without drama or permission. Rather than centring triumph, it honours endurance as something ancient, quiet, and collective: the unremarkable, relentless act of continuing. This is a poem about life itself refusing to end, and about the deep, elemental intelligence that allows growth to return even after devastation.

Mohini

This poem is about Mohini, a white tiger whose life has stayed with me for years — not as a symbol of rarity, but as a mirror. She was admired, managed, controlled, and called “lucky,” while being slowly erased of choice and wildness. Writing this wasn’t about retelling her story so much as listening to what it reveals about us: how often captivity is dressed up as care, how often survival is mistaken for consent, and how frequently the door is visible long before we’re ready to touch it. Mohini is not an accusation. It’s an invitation — to notice the cages we’ve learned to live inside, and to remember that freedom, while frightening, was never impossible.

Yet

This poem is a vow rather than a declaration of arrival. Yet holds space for incompletion without surrender, reframing uncertainty as movement and becoming as an ongoing act of courage. Centred on a promise made inward—to the younger, hopeful self that still believes—it insists that growth is not measured by speed or certainty, but by the refusal to quit.

Ceasefire

This poem marks a deliberate turning point: not self-love declared prematurely, but self-harm consciously ended. Ceasefire frames acceptance as a strategic decision rather than an emotional breakthrough—an agreement to stop treating the self as an enemy while acknowledging that affection may come later. It holds optimism without erasing damage, offering a vision of peace that is tentative, earned, and quietly radical: the permission to exist, unfinished, without continuing the war.

This Body Is A Betrayal

This poem confronts the lived reality of chronic illness not as a battle to be won, but as an ongoing, intimate negotiation with a body that no longer feels trustworthy. This Body Is a Betrayal gives voice to the grief, exhaustion, and fractured sense of safety that come from living inside pain that originates from within. It is not a rejection of the body, but an honest reckoning with the strain of staying—of choosing life, presence, and persistence even when comfort is no longer guaranteed.

How Alive I am Willing To Be

How Alive I Am Willing to Be is a declaration of agency in the act of living. This poem frames aliveness not as something granted or accidental, but as a conscious choice—one that requires openness to risk, sensation, and transformation. It reflects on the tension between safety and immersion, asking what it truly costs to remain present in one’s own life. With measured intensity, the poem honours courage not as spectacle, but as the daily decision to feel deeply, move toward experience, and inhabit the world without numbing what makes it vivid. This is a meditation on choosing life fully, deliberately, and without apology.

I Was Never Beautiful

I Was Never Beautiful rejects the narrow, conditional definitions of beauty placed on women and interrogates the cost of being valued primarily for appearance. Rather than mourning what was withheld, this poem reclaims the deliberate choice to want more—to seek substance, impact, and selfhood over admiration. It speaks to the hunger to be taken seriously in a world that rewards palatability, and to the power of building an identity rooted in growth, intellect, and presence rather than something time can erode. This is a poem about choosing depth over decoration, and becoming over being seen.

The Agent of Chaos

Some people don’t seek peace, they seek impact—any kind. They thrive in discord, mistaking the chaos they create for proof that they matter. The agent of chaos is a particular kind of creature: unpredictable, unmoored, and terrifyingly inventive in their cruelty. You can’t prepare for them, because conscience has limits and they have none. Yet even they cannot outrun the inevitable truth that no matter how much destruction they sow, people eventually leave. And when the dust settles, they’re left alone with the echo of their own ruin, confusing it still for power.💚

The Graveyard of Muchness

There’s a line in Alice in Wonderland where the Mad Hatter tells Alice she’s lost her muchness. I think about that a lot—how the world teaches us to tone ourselves down until we disappear into something more digestible. The Graveyard of Muchness was born from that quiet grief, from the realisation that most of us have buried our own brilliance just to be seen as reasonable. It’s about walking through the cemetery of all we’ve abandoned—our wonder, our defiance, our wild, luminous selves—and daring to listen for the laughter still echoing beneath the soil.💚

What You Did

There’s a particular kind of evil that hides behind comparison. The kind that says, I wasn’t as bad as them, as if that’s absolution. As if a quieter cruelty is somehow less cruel. This poem is for the one who pretended to be a bystander while their hands left marks. Who rewrote history to dodge the guilt. Who watched, who hurt, who blamed—then claimed innocence. This is not a misunderstanding. It’s a reckoning. You are not who you pretend to be. You are what you did.💚

The Vanishing

Alzheimer’s is a thief that does not break in all at once, but instead steals piece by piece—names, faces, whole chapters of a life once lived. The Vanishing is a poem I wrote while imagining what it might feel like for my mom inside her own fading world, reaching for memories that slip through her hands like ash. It is heavy with grief, laced with fear, and filled with the haunting imagery of what it means to lose yourself one memory at a time.💚

THIS TIME, I DON’T THINK WE’RE COMING BACK

I turn forty-two today, and with it comes the weight of knowing I have spent a lifetime running toward someone who was already walking away. This poem is not just a farewell—it is a reckoning, a surrender of the chase, an unflinching record of blood, betrayal, and the hollow ache of a father who chose to tie his own hands behind his back. It is the most painful gift I can give myself: resignation to the truth, finally written down.💚

Disappearing Like Vapour

This poem is an elegy for everything we lose that never truly leaves. Disappearing Like Vapour explores the way time doesn’t erase so much as it softens, fading our moments into atmosphere—until what remains are ghosts of memory, shadows of meaning, and echoes of lives once vividly lived. It’s about walking through the present with a heart attuned to the past, feeling the pulse of history in stairwells, streets, and silences. In every place we inhabit, something once happened. Someone once was. And if we listen closely enough, we can still hear them—like breath against glass, vanishing but never gone.💚

IF GOD IS A FATHER

This poem is called If God Is A Father, and it’s the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It’s about the grief of losing my faith—not through rebellion or doubt, but through the example of my own father. I was taught that God is a father, and so I watched mine. And what I saw was cruelty, absence, punishment without accountability, and a love so conditional it could barely be called love at all. This poem is a reckoning. With the mythology I was handed. With the harm that was justified in His name. With the silence that still echoes. It’s not just a rejection of the God I was taught to worship—it’s a refusal to let that kind of fatherhood define what I believe in ever again.💚

THE FAILURE OF THE FATHER GOD

This next poem is called The Failure of the Father God. It’s a deliberate and direct reckoning with the concept of God as a father—a metaphor I was handed as a child, and one that never brought me comfort. In fact, it mirrored the harm I was already trying to survive. This poem isn’t subtle. It’s not meant to be. It’s for every woman who was told to kneel in gratitude while being broken, for every daughter who was asked to call silence “love,” and for anyone who has been asked to make peace with a God who looks far too much like the man who hurt them. The Failure of the Father God is not just a personal poem—it’s a refusal.💚

This Moment Is Not My Life

There are moments that feel all-consuming—so loud, so sharp, so heavy, they try to convince us that they are all we’ll ever be. But pain is not permanence. Trauma is not identity. And what we endure does not get to decide who we become. This poem is a declaration of defiance, a reminder that we are not the worst things that have happened to us, nor the hardest things we’re facing. We are more than any single moment. We are becoming, always. And this—whatever this is—is not our whole story.💚

What Fire Knows

We are so often taught that anger is something to suppress, something unbecoming of a woman—that to be palatable, we must be pleasant, forgiving, quiet. But anger is not the enemy. Anger is clarity. Anger is the voice that speaks when everything else has been silenced. It is the moment we stop enduring and start transforming. This poem is a reclamation of female rage—not the kind that destroys for the sake of destruction, but the kind that frees, that rebuilds, that says enough. Let this be a reminder that your anger is not shameful. It is sacred. And when they fear it, when they try to diminish it, know that they are witnessing the most dangerous thing of all: a woman no longer afraid to burn.💚

The Sky Will Do What the Sky Does

This poem is a reckoning with release. The Sky Will Do What the Sky Does is about the futility of trying to contain someone else’s chaos—about the heartbreak of watching a storm rise in someone you once begged to be calm. It’s about learning that no matter how gentle, reasonable, or forgiving you are, you cannot rewrite the weather. You cannot turn thunder into quiet. This piece is for anyone who has exhausted themselves trying to bring peace to someone committed to destruction. It’s not about surrender—it’s about sovereignty. About stepping away from the storm, not because it has stopped, but because you finally understand: it was never yours to still.💚

The Apostasy of Daughters

This is a poem about losing faith—not in the abstract, but in the most personal way imaginable. It is about what happens when the figure meant to protect and guide you, the one who teaches you what love and power are supposed to feel like, becomes the very source of your undoing. When religion tells us that God is a father, what does that mean for the daughters of men who abandon, wound, or destroy? The Apostasy of Daughters is not just a reckoning with belief—it is a lament, a funeral hymn for the idea of divinity as paternal. For some, disbelief is not rebellion. It is survival.🖤

The Hurt I Didn’t Deserve

This poem is about the kind of heartbreak that doesn’t come from romance, but from absence. From someone you love not showing up when you needed them most. It’s about the silence that follows your joy, your struggle, your survival—and the person who should’ve been there, but wasn’t. I don’t know why they turned away. Maybe I never will. But the hurt is real. And so is the grief of having saved someone a seat they never planned to fill.💚

The silence where You should be

Sometimes, sorrow doesn't come from a single moment, but from a slow and quiet accumulation—the weight of not being seen, the ache of showing up for someone who doesn’t do the same. This poem came from that place. From the grief of being present, generous, loyal… and slowly realizing you were never truly met there.💚

The Shape of What Remains

Some things don’t get better. They don’t pass. They don’t transform into wisdom or gifts or meaning. Some things just happen—suddenly or slowly—and nothing is ever the same again. The Shape of What Remains is a poem about that kind of reality. The kind that doesn’t lend itself to healing arcs or tidy endings. It’s about the aftermath—the unbearable permanence of real grief, real loss, and the quiet, everyday bravery it takes to live in a world where the worst has already happened.💚

Time Of Fatigue: Forever

This poem is dedicated to everyone whose default setting is “could nap at any moment,” regardless of how many hours they slept or how many electrolytes they’ve consumed. Time of Fatigue: Forever is a tribute to the deeply personal relationship I’ve developed with exhaustion—equal parts lifestyle, personality trait, and maybe a mild haunting. If you’ve ever been so tired that even your dreams need a break, welcome. You’re among your people.

If You Want to Know (Know That You Can’t Hurt Me)

If You Want to Know (Know That You Can’t Hurt Me) is pure catharsis—years of venom spit back at the source, a blade sharpened on the relentless grind of someone else’s delusion. This is for the narcissists who think repetition makes a lie true, for the bitter, spiteful ghosts who refuse to stay buried, for the unwelcome parasites who latch onto lives that have no room for them. You are not the centre of my universe. You are not even a distant star. You are static, white noise, a meaningless flicker in a life that has outgrown you. This poem is not an invitation. It is an exorcism.

Why I Write to You Every Morning

Every morning, I write something new — sometimes soft, sometimes sharp, always true to the feeling in me.

A gentle note, offered with love: these poems are works of fiction. They are not diaries, confessions, or evidence. They are feelings passing through language, moments being processed, emotions trying on metaphors to see what fits. If you recognise yourself in them… well. That’s between you and the poem.

When you subscribe, that day’s poem arrives in your inbox at 11:11 AM, every single day. No scrolling, no noise, no algorithms gently screaming for your attention. Just words, delivered on purpose, waiting quietly for you to meet them where you are.

And if you’d like to linger a while longer, you can meet me in my words below. 🌿

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-15 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-15

Am I So Five Minutes Ago?

Aging is one of life’s greatest betrayals. One minute, you’re effortlessly keeping up with trends, wearing skinny jeans without fear, and understanding pop culture references with ease—and the next, you’re squinting at your phone, wondering when all your favourite bands became dad rock, and hearing the words classic Taylor Swift applied to an album that came out like yesterday. Am I So Five Minutes Ago? is a humorous, slightly existential reflection on the absurdity of aging as a millennial, from stubbornly clinging to side parts and invisible socks to the creeping realization that the world has moved on without us. It’s a lighthearted, darkly funny take on the moment you realize you’re no longer the target audience, but rather, an observer—one with aching knees, deep nostalgia, and an unshakable devotion to grey home decor.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-14 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-14

The Repatriation Of Me

Leaving one home for another is never just a journey—it is a reckoning of the heart. The Repatriation of Me is a reflection on the bittersweet reality of returning to Canada, a country I love deeply and am endlessly proud to call home, while leaving behind the chosen family that made Australia feel like home, too. It is a love letter to the wild beauty of this land—the mountains, the lakes, the endless trails where we wander with Sophie at our side. It is a celebration of new beginnings, of planting roots in a place where we can build a future, of embracing the values that shape this country we cherish. But it is also an acknowledgment of loss, of distance, of the ache that lingers when love is stretched across oceans. This poem holds the weight of both—joy and sorrow, gratitude and longing—because home is never just one place. It is the pieces we gather along the way, the love that remains no matter how far we go.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-13 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-13

I Think I Would Have Liked Her

There are infinite versions of us—who we are, who we could have been, who we might still become. This poem is a reflection on the girl I never got to be, the one who grew up in a home filled with warmth instead of fear, with encouragement instead of absence. It is a mourning of what was lost, of what was never given, of the love that should have been unconditional but wasn’t. But more than that, it is a reckoning. A recognition that while I will never be her—the girl untouched by wounds I had to stitch myself—I have still built something whole from the broken pieces. I have fought for a life that does not mirror the one I left behind. And though I grieve for her, for the ease she would have known, I also honour the version of myself who kept going, who ran toward something better, who learned to make her own light. This is for her. And this is for me.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-09 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-09

The Ugliest in Every Room

The Ugliest in Every Room is a powerful reclamation of self-worth in a world that too often defines value by appearances. This poem speaks to the quiet pain of being overlooked, of feeling invisible in spaces where others shine effortlessly. But more than that, it is a defiant anthem—an unshaken declaration that true strength, resilience, and beauty are forged in the fires of dismissal and doubt. It challenges the idea that worth is measured by how others perceive us, reminding us that confidence is not given—it is claimed. If you have ever felt unseen, unchosen, or out of place, this poem is for you. Click to read and step into the light of your own undeniable presence.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-08 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-08

The Ugliest Truth

The Ugliest Truth is a fearless dive into the darkness we often refuse to acknowledge—the hidden corners of the soul where blame festers, where cruelty disguises itself as humour, where silence wounds as deeply as betrayal. This poem does not shy away from the raw, unsettling nature of human imperfection, but instead, it holds up a mirror, demanding we look. Because within that reflection—within the ugliness we fear—lies the first spark of transformation. If you've ever wrestled with your own shadows, with the weight of choices left unmade, with the quiet hope that redemption is still possible, this poem will stay with you long after the last line. Click to read and step into the light that only comes from facing the dark.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-04 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-04

The Heart’s Collapse

The Heart’s Collapse is a raw, unflinching look at the weight of what we carry—the love we withhold, the pain we refuse to name, the masks we wear to keep the world from seeing the cracks. This poem doesn’t shy away from the quiet devastation of fear and guilt, but instead, it moves toward something deeper: the undeniable truth that facing our darkness is the only way to find the light. It’s about standing in the wreckage, stripping away the disguise, and meeting yourself—fully, honestly, unafraid. If you’ve ever struggled to own your reflection, to name the parts of yourself you’d rather leave buried, this poem is for you. Click to read and step into the beauty that begins where the breaking ends.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-03 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-03

If I Let The World Know Me

If I Let the World Know Me is a poignant exploration of vulnerability, the quiet ache of longing to be truly seen, and the fear of shedding the masks we’ve carefully built. This poem speaks to the weight of self-preservation—the hesitation before speaking, the instinct to retreat when love reaches too close, the exhaustion of curating a version of ourselves that feels safe. It asks the haunting question: What if I stopped hiding? If you’ve ever wondered what it would feel like to exist without apology, to embrace your voice without fear, this poem will resonate deeply. Click to read and step into the possibility of being fully, unapologetically known.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-02 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-02

The Mirror And The Lie

The Mirror and the Lie is a haunting, deeply personal meditation on self-perception, the relentless scrutiny of our own reflection, and the quiet war waged between who we are and who we believe we should be. This poem captures the way the mirror becomes both judge and captor, distorting reality with whispered lies of not enough. It speaks to the ache of searching for worth in glass, of longing to see ourselves through softer eyes, and of the exhausting ritual of doubt that so many know too well. If you've ever stood before a mirror and struggled to recognize the person staring back, this poem will speak to you in a way that is both raw and achingly familiar.

Britt Wolfe 2025-03-01 Britt Wolfe 2025-03-01

If I Had Been Fearless

If I Had Been Fearless is a raw and unflinching reflection on the weight of hesitation, the ache of lost time, and the haunting question of what might have been. This poem speaks to anyone who has ever held themselves back—who has whispered Who do you think you are? instead of stepping boldly into the life they wanted. It captures the quiet grief of being your own greatest cage, of looking back at the dreams left waiting, and wondering if it’s too late to claim them. If you’ve ever wrestled with self-doubt, if you’ve ever longed to be braver, to take up space without apology, this poem will stay with you long after the last line. Click to read and feel the resonance of a truth so many of us carry.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-28 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-28

The World Through Your Eyes

The World Through Your Eyes is a poetic glimpse into the boundless wonder of a dog’s perspective—a reminder that joy is found in the rustle of leaves, the warmth of the sun, and the simple act of running just for the love of it. This poem celebrates Sophie’s unique way of seeing the world, with one eye of sky and one of earth, teaching lessons of adventure, trust, and the beauty in small moments. It’s a love letter to the way dogs show us what truly matters, leading us back to the parts of life we often forget to notice. Click to read and step into a world where every scent tells a story, every path is an invitation, and love is as certain as the dawn.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-27 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-27

Ode To Sophie

Ode To Sophie is a love story in its purest form—a celebration of the unwavering devotion, quiet companionship, and sheer magic of a beloved dog. This poem captures the depth of a bond that needs no words, only knowing glances, soft sighs, and the rhythm of paws on hardwood floors. It speaks to the kind of love that reshapes you, the kind that makes even the simplest moments—sunlight on fur, a head resting in your lap—feel like poetry. If you’ve ever loved a dog so completely that their presence feels stitched into your soul, this poem will speak to your heart.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-26 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-26

For Sophie, Always

For Sophie, Always is a love letter to the ones who teach us what it means to be a family. This poem honours the steady companionship and unconditional love of a first furry friend—the one who was there through quiet nights, long walks, and all the unspoken moments that stitched a family together. It reflects on the beauty of growth, of welcoming new life and fresh stories, while assuring that the love that came first remains unwavering. If you’ve ever felt the pull of your heart stretching, making room for new beginnings without letting go of the love that built your foundation, this poem is for you.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-25 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-25

The Things You Won’t Remember

The Things You Won’t Remember is a tender reflection on the quiet, fleeting moments of early parenthood—the ones etched so deeply into a parent’s heart but destined to slip from a child’s memory. This poem captures the soft weight of midnight cuddles, whispered lullabies, and the stillness of dawn shared with a tiny soul who won’t remember the love poured into those sleepless nights. But the parent will

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-24 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-24

Becoming

Becoming is a deeply intimate reflection on the transformative journey into parenthood. This poem captures the quiet fears, tender hopes, and profound love that accompany the process of becoming mother, father, and ultimately, a family. It explores the vulnerability of wondering if you’ll be enough, the strength found in selfless love, and the unspoken promises made when welcoming a new life. With lyrical warmth and heartfelt honesty, Becoming reminds us that parenthood is not just a role—it’s a becoming, a reshaping of who we are and who we will continue to grow into together.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-23 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-23

Who You’ll Be

Who You’ll Be is a heartfelt tribute to unconditional love and the limitless possibilities of a life just beginning. This poem explores the tender curiosity of wondering who someone will become—whether they’ll chase wild dreams, find peace in quiet moments, or write stories of their own. It celebrates every path a person might take, offering reassurance that no matter where life leads, they will be loved completely and without condition. It’s a reflection on the beauty of watching someone grow into themselves, knowing that their journey is their own to write. If you believe that love means embracing someone exactly as they are, wherever life takes them, this poem is for you.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-22 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-22

The Bloom Unseen

The Bloom Unseen is a tender reflection on the quiet beginnings of life, love, and possibility. It explores the sacred stillness before dawn—the moment when the world seems to pause, holding its breath for what’s about to become. This poem speaks of love that does not seek to shape or own but to nurture and make space for growth. It’s about the quiet honour of carrying potential, of being a vessel for something greater than oneself, and of knowing when to let go so that new life can rise and bloom on its own terms. If you believe that true love is found in letting go, in standing back while watching something extraordinary take shape, this poem will speak to your soul.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-22 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-22

To Carry The Dawn

To Carry the Dawn is a meditation on love at its most patient and profound. It speaks to the quiet spaces where connection resides—the moments between heartbeats, where dreams flicker and fears tremble. This poem explores the beauty of holding space for another, not to possess but to promise; not to lead or follow, but to walk beside. It’s about being a steady light along the path, allowing love to unfold naturally, without rush or expectation. If you’ve ever believed that true love means lifting someone up while giving them room to grow, this poem will resonate deeply. Click to read and experience the gentle power of a love that guides, supports, and endures.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-17 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-17

Soul Sisters, Bound Beyond Time

Friendship is more than shared memories and inside jokes—it’s a love story without the pressure of romance, a bond that weathers every storm and dances through every joy. Soul Sisters is a tribute to those friendships that feel like fate—the ones that remind us that soulmates aren’t just lovers, but the women who stand beside us, year after year, without hesitation. If you’ve ever had a friend who felt like home, like a safe harbour in a chaotic world, this poem will resonate with the deepest corners of your heart. Dive in, and celebrate the kind of love that truly lasts forever.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-16 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-16

When We Are Old

When We Are Old is a love letter to the life shared by two souls who’ve grown together through every adventure, every stumble, and every dream whispered beneath starry skies. This poem paints a vivid picture of a future where hands remain entwined, where laughter echoes from sunlit porches and hobby farms filled with braying donkeys and clucking fancy chickens. From private islands in Cairns to the simple joy of watching grandchildren chase chickens through the grass, it’s a vision of enduring love, quiet magic, and the legacy of a life well-lived together. Click to read the full poem and let yourself be transported to a future where some loves truly are forever.

Britt Wolfe 2025-02-14 Britt Wolfe 2025-02-14

Relentless…Rising…Never Done

Relentless...Rising...Never Done is more than just a reflection of hard work—it’s a battle cry for those who refuse to settle, who chase their dreams with unyielding fire, who push forward even when the world tells them to slow down. This is for the ones who lace up before dawn, who carry the weight of ambition in their bones, who understand that success isn’t given—it’s earned. It’s about the legacy built through sweat, the lessons learned in motion, and the unstoppable force of those who refuse to stand still. If you’ve ever felt the fire in your soul to do more, be more, and create something that lasts—this poem is for you.

Poetry by Britt Wolfe

I publish a new poem every single morning. Or mourning. Depends on the emotional forecast. Some are tender. Some are rage in a nice outfit. All of them are my attempt to make sense of the human experience using metaphors, emotionally charged line breaks, and questionable coping mechanisms.

Let me be clear: these poems are fiction. Or feelings. Or both. Sometimes they’re exaggerated. Sometimes they’re the emotional equivalent of screaming into a throw pillow. Sometimes they’re just a vibe that got out of hand. They are not confessions. They are not journal entries. They are not cry-for-help-coded-messages. (I have actual coping strategies. And group chats.)

Poetry, for me, isn’t about answers. It’s about shouting into the abyss—but rhythmically. Some pieces will whisper, “Hey… you okay?” Others will show up uninvited, grab you by the collar, and scream, “SAME.” They’re moody, messy, and occasionally helpful—kind of like me.

You’ll find themes running through them like recurring nightmares or that one playlist you swear you’ve moved on from. Love. Grief. Identity. Joy. Ruin. It’s all here, jostling for attention like emotionally unstable toddlers on a sugar high.

Think of these poems as an ongoing conversation—one I started, overshared during, and have now awkwardly walked away from. Good luck with that.

Meet Me in My Words:

Why I Write to You Every Morning

Poetry by Britt Wolfe

For the Words That Found You