This is a space for the poems you don’t polish. The ones you write at 2am. The ones that scare you a little to share. You don’t need to be “good” here. You don’t need a degree, a following, or perfect grammar. You just need honesty. What we do here: - Write raw, real poetry - Share drafts, fragments, unfinished lines - Give kind, direct feedback - Show up for each other without performing What this is not: - A competition - A place for ego or clout - A workshop that tears your work apart You can post: - 4 lines or 40 - Untitled pieces - “This is a draft” poems - Work that doesn’t know what it is yet Start whenever you’re ready. Introduce yourself, or don’t. Post a poem, or sit quietly until you feel safe. This community grows through presence, not pressure. We’re glad you’re here. Let your words be messy. Let them be sweet. Let them sting. 🕯️🍯

The first module of Hex & Honey: Unpolished is now available. This week, we focus on permission to write freely—letting go of perfection and just showing up for your words. Access the module to start your first exercises, get prompts, and join the community in sharing your raw, honest poetry. 🖤🍯 Start writing. Start messy. Start together.

I was Icarus flying above the clouds in a set of makeshift wings, reaching for the sun. I could never feel as free as when melted wax drips down my fingertips. as I descend from this high I pluck at my wings like daisies She loves me, She loves me not. An entanglement of my own self destruction Plummeting towards the earth at an unforgivable speed The sweet irony of being all too close and all too far. Always just out of reach.