it’s the time of year
just about
where hope and joy
fizzles out
i’m draining onto
a dirty ground
like a lost set of keys
never found
there’s no end here
i’ll walk forever
awake no longer
and sleeping never
it’s the time of year
just about
where hope and joy
fizzles out
i’m draining onto
a dirty ground
like a lost set of keys
never found
there’s no end here
i’ll walk forever
awake no longer
and sleeping never
This project is coming along!
This will be a collection of new material from the last few years exploring the ‘what’s been left behind’ from my college years, who I am now and the joys and struggles of being an adult. There are themes of feminism, mental health, self-doubt…and some silly poems about the weather, of course.

There will be more posts about this project later on in the next few months.
In case you missed it, my other poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries, can be found on Amazon here.
maybe it’s because i pay taxes now
maybe it’s because i understand more about politics
or maybe it’s because i know more about myself
than i ever did before
Monday feels
like a dying sun
like hope that fades
when the day is done
Monday feels
like an icy breeze
you’ve lost your gloves
and you’re gonna freeze
Monday feels
like drowning tears
your face is wet
you’ve aged a million years
Monday feels
like a melting crayon
you drag your feet
you say, “i think i can”
Agh, these were the Monday vibes I was totes feeling yesterday.
–AJM
This is a new project I’ve been working on. Spring is almost here and I’m feeling hopeful. To be published on Amazon in December 2025!
A little bit about the project…
This is a collection of new material from the last few years exploring the ‘what’s been left behind’ from my college years, who I am now and the joys and struggles of being an adult. There are themes of feminism, mental health, self-doubt…and some silly poems about the weather, of course.
I’m very excited with how this is coming together!

There will be more posts about this project later on in the next few months.
In case you missed it, my other poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries, can be found on Amazon here.
the hardest thing
about growing up
or growing old
is the relationships you grow out of
love may be infinite
but time doesn’t mean
you’ll be in the same place
or the same time
always
eventually
you have to admit
that how you once meant to somebody
is now different
she’s not a baby anymore
she’s on her own path now
you blinked
and missed the old one
but
how you wish
like you could grasp it in your hand
a wish like squiggly worms
you wish
you could zip along, too
Once again (sigh), it’s not Monday. I’ve been toying with the idea of switching to Tuesday and Wednesday posts.
Wrote this one last night. It’s difficult for me to watch my nieces and nephews get older. For some reason, it’s like I always thought they’d be little. Maybe in my eyes they still are. Even though they’re not. 😭
–AJM
we plug in
and as joy drains away
so does our hope
to do something for ourselves
and then the week ends
and it’s monday again
sounds of construction
float across empty side-walks
chaos building peace
how can something
so dangerous
be so comfortable
it’s like using a hug
to strangle someone
a chef’s knife
slides through kidneys, too
and every silver rain storm
that brings life
can take it away
these are the opposites
to life’s balances
the Yin and the Yang
nature just isn’t beautiful
she is red hot and smoldering