in parentheses

Alyssa Ray’s (they/she) favorite place to visit is the warmth of a nostalgic moment. A poet who navigates the confessionals of the uncomfortable and uncertainty of living life with a mental illness, Alyssa (AKA; A. Ray) pours personal life experiences into tangible sentences with a little bit of humor and a whole lot of melancholy yearning.

Further Information:

Their writing has also been featured in prior publications such as…

• Silent Spark Press’ “Stunning Poetry” ebook Series and Physical Version
• Unfolded’s Poetry Collection, “Had I Known Before.”
• The Authors Porch Magazine Poetry Corner – Issue #8
• Wingless Dreamer’s anthology, “Growth in Grief”
• 5th place in a local Adult Writing Contest held by the library and our local Writers’ Association

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Grotesque Cold

Warming tail lights
Reflect against
The soft white snow
As it billows around
Foilage and trees,
Covering everything
At least a few inches deep,
And, as I stare at this
Picturesque scenery,
There’s something grotesque
That hides underneath all of it,
And I know it’s so cold,
But it’s also quiet
So maybe I’ll just stay
Until I know
How to dig the car out
Or until
I am completely consumed
By snowflakes and winter winds,
And unfrozen in the Spring.

Guilt-Free Dessert Gum

I feel guilty
For eating late at night
Though I’ve refused to eat
Any part of the day either
You wouldn’t know by the
Bloated corpse I will leave behind
But I turn to the internet,
As most of us do,
And I ask why the guilt eats me
More than my stomach eats itself;
I’m told it’s an eating disorder,
But there’s a diet plan to shed pounds, fast,
However, there’s nothing wrong
And I shouldn’t feel bad for wanting food,
But I should know it affects my body poorly
So I read this article on
How to curb those nasty cravings.
Then, rudely interrupting the racing thoughts,
My stomach growls.
Eyes nervously dart to the clock,
And I hear my mother ask why
My chubby hands are prodding the treats
And sweets in the cupboard past 7 –
Because she was a size 00 at my age and
She wishes her old prom dress could fit me
And I feel sorry that my existence
Made my mother despise her body
So she makes me wear that same disdain
But it’s never really fit me quite right and
I feel guilty
That it hasn’t.

The Potential of an Empty Casket

In the grand scheme,
My mortal frame
Shall return to dust,
But do not weep,
For my soul will sleep
In a place of humble trust.

A casket lies bare,
Awaiting my flesh to wear,
But for now, it stands alone,
An empty vessel, a hopeful tone.

For in the fabric, I find ease,
The gentle embrace, a final breeze,
And in this tranquil space,
My soul will forever grace.

Evelyn

Evelyn,
How could you?
I loved you.
When you said it
Was it ever true?

Evelyn,
My darling,
I want to hold your hands
And twirl your hair between stretches –
I thought we were one and the same.

Evelyn,
Everything is all wrong
And you know this space between us
Feels deeply misplaced
And if you told me
What it is
That I did
To tear your heart this way
I’d spend an eternity learning
To love you the way you deserved.

Evelyn,
Why haven’t you responded to my letters?
Sat at my table,
Knuckles bruised
From ink and pen,
I wrote myself
Into each of those words
Picked so carefully for you,
And you tell me
You hadn’t read a single one.

Evelyn,
I can’t believe you’d call me selfish.
I am awkward and not charming –
No one has ever loved me
With the same tenderness
That radiates from you –
And I am afraid no one
Ever will again.

Evelyn,
I matched my lipstick to yours,
I tied my corset so tight it broke my ribs,
I laced my boots until the metal bruised my ankles,
I wore my best dress and even sewed the fringe.
By the time you receive this letter,
I will already be dead,
And I regret that I will not
Get to taste your kiss
One last time.

Evelyn,
I wish I could have made
A beautiful life
Where we were able to love freely
Without fear or boundaries,
Without men or their judgments,
Without sneaking kisses behind the barn;
I wish I could have made
You laugh in my bed chambers
Until the day we were old.

Oh, Evelyn,
What a dream that would be,
But pretending was never for me.

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