A Love Letter to Rejection

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To My Not-So-Dearest Friend, Rejection,

I am so sorry you get such a bad rep – I would say that you deserve better, but I am not sure that is the most fitting for you. You at least deserve for people to respect you.

You taught me what it means to be persistent.

You are so necessary in the world. And you have taught me so much about myself and about how I function than I can ever thank you for.

You taught me that every “no,” is an opportunity to learn something, gain more experiences, to enjoy the journey more and keep trying.

You taught me that you will not kill me. I spent years avoiding you, honestly, like the plague. I feared you. I thought that meeting you meant that I had failed in some way or form. But we both know that isn’t true.

You have changed me in many ways – you have allowed me to see my potential and the areas where I need to improve.

The more you come around, the easier it is to experience you. I am glad that I am learning to accept you more and more in my life.

You’ve pushed me out into the open waters of uncertainity and forced me to learn to float. To learn how to be in the “uncomfort zone” – where all my best work, my potential and my fears lie.

I won’t say that I love you, but I definitely need you in my life.


– Tanesha Renae


A Search For the Future: Poem

So to start the new year off, I decided to share a poem that I wrote about the future. As some people know, I have been struggling with some internal “demons” of insecurity, feelings of not being good enough and low self-esteem. This year, I’ve decided to not allow these things to control my life (anymore), and to begin to live the life I want and deserve. So, I hope this inspires you to start living in your truth and living in the way you want to live.

To the girl that used to live inside me:

I’m sorry but you’re going to have to pack your bags and leave. Don’t pass go, don’t collect $200. Just walk and don’t turn back.

The room you used to reside in has been reassigned, and you can no longer live here within the walls of my sanity.

You tiptoe around like poison, seeping into the depth of my mind, in to the hidden corners of this temple.

Take your baggage of insecurities, and self-hate with you.

Don’t let that suitcase full of failures that you are holding on to weigh you down on your way out.

Be sure to clean out that closet full of mistakes, and the dust of your past.

And take what you thought was a sprinkle of that self-esteem, but was really a large serving of shame all over the floor.

Take down the wallpaper of depression, Re-paint the walls with happiness because someone else is moving in.

She’s so beautiful with a head full of God, and peace in her soul.

A suitcase full of hope, and a wardrobe full of blessings is what she’s bringing.

She plans on redoing the foundation with strong family’s ties and love.

Building up walls of determination and strength, and put up curtains of compassion.

Filling her house full of the warm of passion, and the smell of kindheartedness.

Welcome Ms. Future, to your new home.

Love Always,

T. Renae

His love.

Something short and sweet, I wrote:)

I was in loved with him, and I loved him like firebombs in the city. Hot and fiery passion that you could see from miles away. From far away a beautiful marvel, the closer you got the more chaos appeared. Leaving nothing but destruction behind.

His love was like having butterflies in your stomach that turned into poisonous moths. Not all at once either. Slowly, painstaking, one at a time. Each butterfly in more agony than the last, and causing even more suffering than before. And you have to bear witness to it all. Tormenting you, watching each one bat their wings one last time as a butterfly, and their first ones as a poisonous moth. As much as I loved the butterflies, I couldn’t bear to watch them turn….

Thanks for reading,


Falling For You

falling in love

To fall for something unknown is like falling into the unbelieveable,

to chase a dream unreachable and find something worth holding on to.

The fear of falling for you is the sense in which I lose sight of reality

And then I create in my mind a new formality.

Of humanity,

where only you and I exist.

Sweaty palms, slurred words, what is this?

The feeling that take over my body derives from you and drives me crazy,

like racing in the slow lane going 180.

Gracefully I embrace it,

I embrace you,

the shining star in my night and the rising rose in my day

cause the morning is too far to wait…

Falling for you is not losing balance, but rather gaining understanding,

a mirror image reflecting something beautiful from within.

So many cards are on the table, falling for you ,

and I am willing and able to say,

I am yours,

you are mine,

so fall too so we can fall together.

William L. Dickerson

I wonder.

So yeah. Here’s another poem by me, I haven’t had much time to be writing with school, but here you go. Please be gentle with criticism. Enjoy. I’m thinking about combining this piece and my previous piece on here to make a spoken word piece. We will see 🙂

I wonder what it would be like if I didn’t see forever in his eyes, or if his lips didn’t taste like the sweetest substance on earth. If he’s body was not milk chocolate, smooth and desirable or if I didn’t want to shed my flesh, just to be closer to him.

I’d imagine when he kissed me it would like the world was crumbling around me, in a beautiful yet earth shattering way. Where we were the last people on earth and our love was the only thing we could survive on. And we were savages longing to survive. Taking it all in way too fast, and enjoying it way too much. Where we couldn’t find any other emotion but love, overwhelming and life altering love.

Then he would tell me that he wanted to memorize every curve on my body, like his it was favorite song, as we lay in the bed of eternity. The bed like a black hole of forever lined with silk sheets the color of heaven, that neither of us had the strength nor desire to attempt to escape.

His body would be a never ending meadow of flowers that I just want to curl up in, and never leave. And every time I would visit there would be something new to discover. Touching him would be like picking daisies in the springtime, just mindless and gentle. Being sure to savor each one before picking the next one, no different than the last.

I was just thinking about how much I loved him, and how his soul and mine intertwined, like little kid shoestrings just in a knot of twists and angles. Not in any form or fashion, just one overlapping the other. Would anyone be able to tell where my soul ends, and his begin? I don’t even know his name or what his voice sounds like when his lips say mine. Maybe in my dreams he and I will meet again.

Thanks for Reading,


A Females Insecurity Can Be A Beautiful Disaster

See, when I close my eyes, I don’t see you,

I see someone who I used to believe was you,

A person before I knew the real you, a person who was fearless and strong,

Someone who was beautiful

And took on the world with her head held high.

Then I woke up,

It was then that I needed to realize it was a dream

And it was time to really read your aura and tell who you truly were,


Scared of your past and the decisions you made.

Scared to let out the inner girl that screams and scratches within you.

The pain you feel,

The sleepless nights and those anxious moments are the symptoms you feel

From having your dreams clawing on the inside of you.

Your dreams being that girl in you wanting to come out; to be freed.

So you can reach yours dreams.

Reach your goal of who you want to be in life,

But you hold back,

You hold onto her yet longer inside you

Because your insecurities make you believe it’s okay

To allow you really want to be remain inside instead if allowing the world to see you,

The you that was in my dream.

~Anonymously, Will Dickerson

When I Saw Him…

I heard on this poetry video, on youtube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpVLLq7KQyE), that “your poetry starts when you start telling the truth,” this poem is full on truth. I wrote this about that feeling when , and you almost fall in love, with his physical features. So please be gentle with the feedback, because this is my real first poem. So here we go:

Screen Shot 2014-01-11 at 10.21.47 PM

When I saw him across the room, I felt like my feet had been taken from me, and had been replaced with soft and fluffy marshmallows. As if they had just been set ablaze during a fall night. Marshmallows like the clouds in a clear blue sky, limitless to gravity, and the world, pure and barely there.

I watched him talk to the surrounding persons, he beamed the heavens opened up and glimmered down on me from the deepest depths of his soul, if I should be so lucky.

I studied his face, like I was in the library at three am, studying for a final in biochemistry, and I slept through the entire semester. His face looked like God had reached down personally to chisel in every one of his features, just for my eyes to admire. If I would be so blessed that God could favor me so much, to have him in my presence.

There I stood, a wide-eyed child at Disney Land for the very first time, as he shifted the room, when he graced the floor with his feet, around the room from table to table. I took mental notes as fate and the world converged at the wrinkle of his brow, when deep in conversation.

And when he laughed. It sounded like the most beautiful thunder, that God himself made into a symphony of His joy. His joy that he crammed into a mason jar, compacted so tight that when bursts, it bellows through your soul and knocks the wind straight out of your lungs.

His smile was the sunshine in Seattle, after all the rain clouds have been swept aside, nobody was ready for that brightness that came down, the warmth that it brought. His skin was marble, smooth, and beautiful like the softest fabric that could ever grace mine.

I thought if I could just swindle one look, so that moment could be forever etched in my mind, frozen in one moment where I saw heaven deep in the pools of milk chocolate that were his eyes. He would look into mine; seeing beauty at it’s rawest form, so pure as if it was fresh snow in the middle of December or dew along the grass early one summer morning. He would see the future right there deep in the depths of my soul.

If I only he would look my way, and if he did. I would listen to every word he had to say, barely talking. Just listening, savoring the velvet notes of his voice as the bounced through my eardrums, and boomeranged in my head for all of infinity.