Angie Doe

A poet dealing with the daunting realities of my ending 20s, a less than ideal love life, and a mother with dementia. These are pieces crafted during my Creative Writing MA and new ones I wished had shown their face in my dissertation. 

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Pretty Bitches
3 months ago
Beautiful things shouldn’t be able to cause pain Memories, pretty bitches Most in my mind are on speed dial Others easily found in my address book And of course those I stumble upon searching for thos...
Socks
3 months ago
The first time I hugged him And the last time Smelled the same. Tide pods and uncertainty Of how long to linger How much to squeeze To rub my back Or let his hand drop Meet my eyes with a smile Before...