Recovery and rebirth

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve published anything here, and I am finally taking the leap to choose faith over fear and to integrate all sides of my life into one.

Letters for My Lovers, at its inception, was a way for me to share my writing and feel a little less alone in the world at a time when I was feeling a crushing sense of isolation and loss. I was alienated from myself in ways that I could barely understand, and sharing this secretive part of my life was a source of great healing and joy for me. It made me feel alive and part of a community of writers and poets who, like me, had something to share with the world.

From the very beginning, my pen name was fraught with contradictions I knew would eventually catch up to me. Although I shared vulnerable things with the world, doing it behind the guise of an erotic, empowered “sex-witch” persona meant that I could hide behind something familiar. Lilith was always my armour, the part of me that kept me safe from having to show my sensitive gooey core and acknowledge the depths of my own humanity.

I held onto this blog like a blankie, and through all my trials and tribulations, I couldn’t let it go because I knew someday I would want to publish the poems I’d written here under my real name.

In 2023, my life shifted in the most unexpected way. My long-time relationship had an implosion of sorts, and within a week of that, I learned through a random DNA test that the man who had raised me wasn’t my biological father. I won’t go into too many details, but needless to say, my life (which was already rife with trauma) got turned upside down overnight. Shortly thereafter, I checked myself into an addiction treatment centre and began my journey of recovery from active addiction and refocusing my energies on healing the complex trauma that has always inhabited me.

In the years since, I’ve grown into a version of myself that feels closer to home than anything I’ve experienced before. I’m living a life filled with authenticity, in accordance with my values and principles, and I work hard every day to appreciate the privilege of rebuilding myself as a human being and of living my passions.

I have written countless poems since I last published anything here, and am working on figuring out how to keep these multiple sides of myself out and available. There will most likely be changes to this site in the coming months. I have yet to figure out whether to retire Lilith completely and begin publishing under my real name, or keep my poetry linked to her, since she is an essence of me, but I am overjoyed to be in a position where I’m no longer afraid to integrate Lilith into who I am today and continue to share my poetry with the world.

More to come soon, but in the meantime, you can learn a bit more about me here.

Eager to meet you all again. ❤

Xo – Tashi

A few short poems

A collection of short poems that will otherwise go unpublished, so I’m grouping them together here instead. Some of these have previously been posted to Twitter, so apologies if there is a bit of a repetition.

Half Moon Bay

The roar of the Ocean
Rules and narrow margins.
You stole my heart away
When we were in Half Moon Bay.

Morning Commute

Basic bitches in the back of the bus,
Shit sprawled all over the place.
I’ve never understood pumpkin spice lattes,
Maybe it’s the only spice they get in their lives
Future soccer moms and housewives.

(This was undeniably a morning rant)

Montreal

Ice in the night
Looks like latex
Brought to a shine
By an obedient little slave.

Submission

Subservient Subs
Surrendering Subconsciously
to Subliminal Subspace
like the Subspecies Subordinates
they long to be.

Succubus 1

Cry me your soul,
Let my hands slowly deprive you.
Oxygen fleeing, haggard existence
What does it feel like
To know that when you kiss me,
You are kissing death?

Montebello

A colourless day draws on
In cold observation of privilege
By the light of a dozen flames
Patagonia and Gucci abound
Wood, stone, and stained glass
The Succubus laughs silently
As loveless marriages melt away
On this crisp winter’s day

Melt

Time of spring
Icicles turned water
Frozen again
Time to slip

Bard Bits – Innocence

He marvelled at her innocence
Shining through in the darkness
An ethereal light amongst the shadows
Blissfully cradled in his arms
She was his angelic little slut.

Bee Mine

Darkness before dawn
A wasp flies up a mountain
Spread thighs await

Ode to a Fern

Leaning towards dying foliage
Desperate whispers part my lips
“I’ll cherish you forever.”
Fronds amiss, you sink into oblivion

Succubus 2

Create a void in me, so I lose sight
Embrace the upheaval of my thighs
Mountainous strength from beneath
As I erode myself into your world
Eager monster forsaking the gods
Devouring, until only the shell remains

© 2018 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Wolf – For W

What will the Wolf say
When he stares the sun in the eyes?
When night becomes day,
Day becomes night,
And hard feelings fossilize into amber?
When Smouldering creativity
Meets twilight inspiration,
And the world fades away…

When I think of you,
I see shadows dancing on the moon
And faerie lights tickling the darkness.
A midsummer’s night’s dream
Created from the meetings of strange minds.
Perfected, time and time again.
One stroke, then another, sacredly
Etching, connecting, correcting,
Before sinking into contemplation.

An eternal carnival in your lair,
My body dies, divides, renews
Becoming one, yet another
With every step of our twisted process.
A mask within a mask,
Inspiration…
A pile of pigment between your fingers,
A pinch of this,
A dab of that;
With the heave of a breast,
Lilith the predator, becomes prey
Caught by a hunter more skilled than herself.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
Physical manifestations of primal dreams
Can tell no lies.
So, dig your claws into the fabric of my creation;
Let your hot breath linger,
As your teeth reach for my neck.
And tell me,
My humble predator…
What does it feel like,
When you’re howling at the sun?

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

Anisoptera – For J

Ephemeral emerald iridescence
envelops the fragility of your oblong form
barely seen, a flutter of translucent wings
surrenders your position, caught in a ray of light
enticed by the Succubus, like a moth to a flame

Your many eyes see beyond her carnal shell
contemplating the woes of the disconnected
shimmering belonging, you glisten in the sun
of the one you love, now, then, and tomorrow
until the cycle starts anew; a natural order
reborn from the cold, dark, depths of the pond.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved

The Artist

Delicate dove in your hands,
You encourage my flight.
Warm lanterns in the shadows,
A gentle keeper of my love.

Through restraints of passion,
True colours shine
Painting, etching, sculpting…
My body your eternal canvas
Your ropes a medium of your love,
An expression of your desire.

In your hands,
I hurt, I melt, I love, I sigh, I hang, I cry.
Your tight grip,
Like a warm embrace on my soul
Harks the moment of transcendence,
Freeing me from my corporeal bindings.
I can see you clearly; in spirit.
Brilliant light; enveloping.
Every rotation, fold, tie, twist,
Speaks more than a thousand words.
Interpreters of inspiration,
We speak a common language:
‘The beauty of tight binding.’

The Muse of your musings,
I humbly accept the offerings at my feet.
With spread legs, and eager hands,
My body is yours to please and cherish.
Tickle me with your tongue,
Reach into the depths of my being,
To gently release me into your world.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved


Gods and Heathens

Remote locations
Ignite and unfurl deep passions,
As Pele and Kamapua’a
Bear witness, shedding tears of joy.

Feasting on energies,
Primordial and long forgotten.
The Succubus Lilith devours
Humble servants of the flesh
In resolute embrace.

Up, down, beneath, above
Through and through
Bodies intertwining
Beyond understanding.
A tapestry of lust,
Woven by Arachne herself.

The echo of desperation:
A hand longing to grasp
Harder… Harder. Harder!

((((((((( Resonates )))))))))

Through soft pine like
Hephaestus’ thundering blow.

Warm breaths on soft skin
Cries forever lost in a pillow
Beating hearts,
Trying to rip themselves
From their carnal shells.

Symphonic melodies give way
To carnal compositions
Orchestrated by Pan,
Playing the body of Syrinx
In the form of a flute.
Plaintive gasps and tortured cries,
Frozen in time, forever…
Only relieved by the echo of our love.

© 2019 Tashi Palmo All Rights Reserved