Introducing "Been Bitter" by Diana Mora

“The third installment of the talented Diana Mora intimate story telling is here. With lustful self reflection, vulnerability, new found confidence and more. Not for the prude but definitely words worth reading.”

- Lexi S. Brunson (Editor-in-Chief /CW)

I felt like I was cursed 

I went to look back on my life

I was faced with the same person 


Been Bitter 

I had to break a Generational Curse 

At a time in my life

When I was tried of 



#SupportTheLocal by purchasing her promo drink at Shindig Coffee!

Introducing #WordplayWednesdays - "You can't swim and I can't teach you"

What is the purpose of #WordplayWednesdays?

The focal point of poetry is to tell a story, a fable of the heart and mind. A poem’s purpose is to manifest a painting of connection between life experiences and the emotional core of a person’s psyche. Creative writing gives a platform for self and soul expression to its audience. Natalia (The Freelancer) for CW, wants her words to bring people back to a place where they find memories filled with profound feeling. A place where they realize they are not alone.

Check out Natalia's #WordplayWednesday for your "new" poetry fix. If you would like to contribute to the narrative please email us your submissions, subject: Wordplay Wednesdays at


You can't swim and I can't teach you

How did I get so lost in you
Without even knowing who I am with you
How do I want to love you like no one has tried to love you before
when I can't even break down walls
When I can't even breathe vulnerability in your presence
Let the guard fall, let the curtain fall, give into the unknown and take a bow
How can I ask and crave from you love
When I'm still learning how
I made sure to not fill you within my void
A void I had once thought of as so insignificant
A void I had thought of as irrelevant
Filled properly with self-love and reciprocal relationships
But now I know this void still remains
And pieces of you somehow fell in
I let them fall thinking I was in control
Thinking I was present in every moment we shared
Thinking my past was just that and wouldn't show up to take its toll
When in reality
I was drowning in your attention
Melting under your touch
Forgetting to be present
Forgetting that you didn't know enough
Forgetting that I could be too much
I want to unlearn for you
And for me
I want to be better for me
For you
I want to be the best me
Because I know it's what I deserve
Because I know it's what you deserve
But how selfish of me to ask of you what I know I wouldn't give
How selfish of me to ask you to sit around and wait for me to grow
I mean I want us to grow together and be good together
Be great together
But how can I ask you to be next to me in a journey that could hurt you along the way
How can I ask you to commit to love
If I'm still learning how to give it away
I want you to stay
I damn near want to get on my knees and beg you to stay
Say hey
Look me in the eyes
Can’t you see good in me
Can't see all the good I could be
Can't you see all ways I could love you
Reciprocal and healthily
Beneficial and mutually
Always giving
And reminding myself to let you be free
Can't you see inside of me
How heavy and sweet my love would feel draped all around you
And inside you
But can I ask you to wait?
Can I ask you to stick around and watch me grow into someone you could never hate
I want you to see in me all the great I find in you
All the great I already have within
I want you to see the potential
Because I know it's inside
But can I ask you to wait
To stay awhile and join me on the ride
When I know how difficult it will be for you to swim against the tide


Box Of Markers by Jeronica


Lets go back to the days where fighting was over a,

Black marker, or the last cup of kool-aid.

Where fighting was between only whom it had to deal with

Where preschool suns emerge on manila colored paper,

And not who it doesn’t

Pass me the yellow marker,

Where chalk meets the sidewalk

Before hopscotch turned to party hop.

Back so that the lost generation finds you

Passing cooties, instead of STDs

Instead of stressing out about recessions

Concession stands at home games turned into

We need our childhood back;

Little girls, bo-bo's and tu-tus

Let the games begin.

Baby boy overalls with the snot running down his nose.

Where we cared about "time-outs" on Recess playgrounds

Teenage girls best dressed competitions at ball games.

Played so hard, coming home with grass stained knees,

I'm talking forced to eat your vegetables on the table green.

Nowadays you aint sh*t if you aint cop those new jordans

Last week, and the week before or before that young man died over

Back in the day, equal education was something to die for

Four little girls in a double dutch rope, in the middle of the street,

Pass me the green,

Can I borrow your purple marker.

Multicolor laces on Kswiss, three stripes, shelltoes

Some concords.

Violence, gun violence, domestic violence.

Did you happen to get a white magic marker?

For the young girls who still believe in weddings 

When waiting for the right one, was the right thing to do.

 we have more hoes than pimps do and more dogs than the hound….

Back when hot cocoa fell in love with rosy cheeks kissed by winter time;

When homeboys were shy about asking homegirls for dances;

And white dresses.

But, unfortunately,

But we living in a humane society, right?

Can I dig into your box for a pink marker?

Just before high school valentine's day dances

Now it's demanding, over- romancing

And mama knew about those red popped 

cherry marker…..

the color that described your face when the family found out.

Now we got open legs for sale, and fancy new babies coming soon,

Lonely mamas in church pews,

And a box full of excuses of no daddy blues.


Boy, have times changed

 adapt to the fall of yester-year's generation,

Watch these leaves change

I borrowed your orange,

Back when orange slices satisfied granny's sweet tooth.

Before orange was the only color that suited you…

After little kids carved pumpkins, for pumpkin seeds.

Before realizing black is as empty as your box of markers.

I used your brown.

After realizing my skin is not black.

Nevertheless, it is beautiful.

Just like the other colors I snatched from you.

For the young girls who forget who they are,


Buried in makeup and clothes either too fitted or not fitted at all.

For the young boys who haven’t been able to remember it takes

Years to become a man, understand, a high school diploma and a

It seems Crayola has been producing new colors, without me.

Job don’t make you just that.

Dear lost generation, I hope you find me,