Author | Lightnews

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 2d

She’s single at the bar,
searching for hope
in a shot of tequila.
It soothes her rage,
peels back disappointment.
A man at the bar invites her
to his place.
She takes another sip,
presses the burn against her lips,
body trembling,
and returns home alone to write.
Faith sharp in her hands.
#poetry

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 2d

I am not a girl's girl.
I don't tuck in my elbows
or clench my jaw before I speak.
I cover every corner of the table,
scrape my plate clean.
I am not petite like my mother.
Fat hangs like the American flag.
I spread my toes and stretch out my hands,
fill the room with my body's demands.
#poetry

5

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 3d

I kiss boys at sixteen
under streetlights,
palms pressed to my face.
Names sit heavy on my tongue
like a sharp object
I force down to his hum.
I kiss boys at sixteen
under streetlights,
folding into backseats
like a roadmap
searching for home.

#poetry #writingcommunity #writersky #memoir

5

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 4d

The day before my diagnosis,
I waged war with my thighs.
Caffeine pills and pre-workout,
semiautomatic weapons.

I froze under the doctor's gaze,
cold probe guiding my breath.

"Watch and wait," she said.
I had been watched my whole life
by men, by managers,
my body a landfill.

#poetry #WIP

5

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 6d

Traumas line up.
I press a pen into my palm,
mouth open wide,
set bombs off with song.

Hurt is a microphone
my voice transforms—
curses into chorus,
pain into harmony.

I am the melody in your sleep.

#poetry #writingcommunity #writersky

3

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 7d

I’m the quiet girl in the corner,
longing to bleed red onto my lips.

I slice myself into pieces.
Peel off extra skin
so everyone can have me.

If I stop pretending,
will people still want me?
Or will they toss the pieces away?

If I breathe deeper into my mask,
will my face disappear?
#poetry

1

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 9d

I have sat in church pews,
my body restless beneath men’s hands.
I didn’t meet God in a sermon,
but in a club—
hips gyrating to a reggae song.
He whispered,
put down the drink.
I’ll wait for you at home.

When have you found God in unexpected places?

#poetry #writersky #writingcommunity

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 9d

Her lips part to confess her haunting.
Our mouths open wide to cradle her truth.
The car ride home becomes an infirmary,
mending our aching bones.
As she speaks into the night,
our ghosts disappear
into the cold wind
like an answered prayer.
Shame cannot exist
where women gather.

#poetry

5

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 10d

My hands scale every memory,
reach back to touch my grandmother’s face
before the earth inhales her body.

I see her in my mother’s face,
my mother’s face in mine.
Shame passed down
anchors my feet.

I stand on top of their silence,
mouth stretched wide—
I exhale chains and kneel.
#poetry

2

Reposted by Tasha Bovain

yeehaw poems 👑 @yeehawpoems.bsky.social · 10d

I don't think
that the imposter
syndrome ever
really goes
away

#poetry

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 11d

I swallow hard
to make myself digestible,
choking on words
I dare not speak.

Quiet women
are always hungry.

A human keyboard,
commands punch into me.
Voice trapped in my throat
from all the swallowing.

I breathe into my pen,
turn my hands
into a fork
and gorge
on possibility.

#poetry

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 13d

I wanted to be marked by
his words,
his attention,
his adoration—
a commodity for consumption.
I wanted someone to claim me,
to know I was worthy of possession.
Now I mark myself,
slide my fingers inside my own heart, and pull.
I belong to no one but myself.

#poetry #writingcommunity #writersky

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Reposted by Tasha Bovain

OddlyMe @oddly-me.bsky.social · 16d

.
liar
liar
flames are rising
pants on fire
run from the damn barn
when
will ya ever learn
when
will ya ever learn
.

#oddlyme
#poetry #micropoetry #musical

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 14d

I am a mountain against the wind,
firm in my becoming.
I unfold lessons like fortunes
from cookies.
Grief molds me into stone—
a woman who kisses loss,
cradles rage,
and worships heartbreak.
Grief teaches me
to bloom in its presence.

#poetry #writersky #writingcommunity #WIP

3

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 14d

I lasso the moon,
snap a picture—
proof I can hold beauty
without the world crushing it.
“God’s work,” my lover said.

I chase it when I rise,
stare into its face
before I go to sleep.
He’s gone,
but beauty is still here.
God rests beside me.

#poetry #micropoem #writersky #writingcommunity

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 15d

Loneliness is a slinky in my hands.
It collapses into my palms,
leaving scars.
I juggle love and loneliness,
like a circus performer.
But love keeps slipping,
through my grasp.
Too many scars.

#poetry #writersky #writingcommunity

3

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 16d

My skin is a Venus flytrap.
His hands press against me.
I contract and expand,
lose myself in the ravening.

He feeds me compliments.
I feed him candy from my tongue.
I don’t know if I’m the predator
or the prey.
There’s power
in both the capture
and the devouring.

#poetry #micropoem #WIP

5

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 17d

Shame lives in my collarbone,
heavy and thick like cigarette smoke.
It scorches my neck with its accusations.
Tells me,
I’m too fat.
I’m not smart enough.
No man will want me.

I inhale its smoke,
feel the slow burn
in my throat,
before it turns to ash
and crumples beneath my feet.

#poetry

1

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 19d

My womb whispers,
a storm whirls in my belly.

The machine hums,
life vanishes
like a magic wand,
minus applause.

“Happy Mother’s Day,”
the doctor says,
his voice hovering.

Outside, he waits,
last night’s alcohol
still deep in his throat.

I pray for me, for him,
to survive this.

#poetry

1

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 20d

My body was a bomb.
It knew danger
long before my mind.

It erupted in the presence
of beauty standards,
toxic prescriptions,
food made from chemicals.

The world has so many ways
of gaining a woman’s compliance—
real-life Hunger Games
where women’s bodies
are wars to be won,
not healed.

#poetry

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 20d

A woman screams in my childhood kitchen,
breath mixed with alcohol and depression.
Sharp words clip the back of my neck.
Rage stitches into my skin like a tattoo,
Years later, I can still hear her,
smell the alcohol,
feel the depression.
I can’t tell where my body begins
and hers ends.

#poetry

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Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 21d

She doesn’t need applause.
She claps for herself.
She doesn’t need tools.
She builds her own house.
A woman who creates in the dark,
by her own light
is dangerous.
She is the rhythm to her beat.

#poetry #creativity #writingcommunity #authors

3

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 23d

I was born to perform,
split myself into
actress and object.
Every touch cues a scene.

He smiles, and I fold into his arms.
Each time, a new role,
a new scene partner,
always on.

I stare at the exit
but lose my nerve
to step off stage.

#poetry #micropoem #relationships

2

Tasha Bovain @tashabovain.bsky.social · 23d

My aunt's words beat in my ears:
"Don't rush, take your time with love."
Her memory resting softly in my hands—
time slows,
speeds up,
love keeps pace.

How long would you wait for love?

#poetry #micropoem #writersky

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Reposted by Tasha Bovain

Edward Lee @edwardleepoetry.bsky.social · 25d

#poetry #poems #poet #poetrycommunity

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