they say
if nothing works out
just go home

but i wonder
after all these years
will home remain
waiting for me?

but it wasn't just losing you

it was losing out on all the memories to-be
like your mother's fortieth birthday
your baby cousin's first day at school
your uncle's wedding *(i'd already picked out my clothes)

it meant missing you at my graduation
and you never seeing my little sister grow
never tasted the fresh morning brew my dad makes
or listening to my mom recite

losing you wasn't just losing you
it was losing everything around you
and in a way,
*it meant losing myself too.

the salesperson
pointed me towards
the petite section
told me
'oh the women's section
isn't for you'

made me realize
how much
i've shrunk

don't get me
wrong
i'm still 5'2 (& a half)
still weigh
somewhere near 120
but
i have bent and burnt
into
the corners

i have
shrunk

it's a slow process
you don't
even realize that it is
happening
until you find yourself
smaller than ever
and you
wonder
how could a personality
as big as mine
become
as small as this

perhaps it first began
when i
learnt to
stay quiet
when
i really
wanted to say
no
or
yes
or
maybe
or
i believe
or i don't think so

but instead

i looked down
kept
my lips
sealed
and my
eyes closed
blinking
only to
feel my eyelashes
against
my cheeks

i once
had a boy
tell me
he fell in love
first with my voice
then
with me

he tried to solve
me
like a puzzle
putting back the bits and pieces
to create something
whole
but in the process
the pieces got
jumbled up
into something new
and the
voice
i had
that captured
his soul
slipped
away

i started shrinking
when
i lost my voice
and now
i think i've lost
my heart too
my
passion doesn't
flow so
loudly in
my veins and
every now and then
it does
scream
but i silence it
be good,
little girl,
be silent

and to
the girls who
are walking on
glass made
of unwanted opinions
and voices
which are far louder than
theirs,
i say,
remember.

remember who you are
remember what
you are worth.
and remember
that not the father
nor the son
can take from you
the fire
that burns
brighter than the
sun above.
my daughter,
i say,
let your voice
be heard and
let your freedom
burn
and
if
there is a day
when a man
comes and tells you
that he
will replace
the vocal
chords into
something
softer
you
open your hands
offer him peace
and if he rejects
use your freedom
to send
him
far
far
away.

looking from a distance
i can almost love myself

the paper house is blowing away
with the winds of confrontation
the paper people tear and reform
their hands no longer connected
the wars are now in the form of words
and silences

we used to watch these lives on t.v.
never thought they would happen to me
but the hurricane approaches and paper houses fall down
i will have to build myself up from the ground
but i don't have the glue or the scissors
or even the paper people to fix
so i'll sit in this corner and watch the parade
nobody thought it would end up this way

this emptiness still smells of you.

you are wrigley's spearmint
and a little bit of sweat
you are white and grey
black and blue
you are a big slice of pizza
(the butter is mine)
you are envelopes
and hershey's
long fingers
small nose
birthmarks
and flaws
you are violence and forgiveness
pain and discomfort
warmth and silence
hurt
you are hurt

you are a memory
a moment
an association unlimited by time
perhaps this world will always be littered
with reminders of when you were mine

dear god,
you were introduced to me as kind, forgiving, generous. whenever i made a mistake, i didn't feel the need to come apologize to you because i thought you'd know it was a mistake and forgive me. not once in my life have i gone out of my way to hurt anyone. any pain i may have caused anyone was unintentional. like the way i broke my sister's arm- i didn't mean it. we were playing. my parents may not have understood that, but i knew you would understand because you were always- you have always been- my best friend.
i am eighteen now and i've made more mistakes than i can count. these mistakes didn't hurt anyone but myself. i made bad decisions out of vulnerability, desire, fear. and i thought you'd understand. i stayed up a few nights explaining to you exactly what happened (you were there though, so i probably didn't even need to do that). i ******* up, i didn't mean to hurt anyone. i swear to god. i mean, i swear to you.
but recently i'm being told by everyone around me that i need to repent and beg for forgiveness. god, i don't understand. why would i say sorry to you for my mistake? you created me. you knew i was made to make mistakes. if you wanted me to be perfect, you would have made me so. but you didn't. i've always come to you in times of need, in times of confusion and pain. you have guided me, i have trusted you, you told my secrets to no one.
why now, must i beg for forgiveness? you know me better than i know myself. you know i have always sacrificed myself for those i love, i never wanted anyone to hurt.
i am lying here with a broken heart and a the words are twisting in throat. my stomach is on fire and every breath is a struggle. i am thankful that i do not need to speak for you to hear me. god, tell me this, why must i beg for forgiveness when i know that you have forgiven me? i know you have forgiven me for being human. you made me human in the first place.
other humans will not forgive me.
you will. you always have.

please help me understand.
regards,
your human.

yesterday i caught myself buying iced coffee
anyone who knows me knows that i like my coffee hot
anyone who knows you knows that you do not

my playlist looks like a walk down your memory lane

you frustrate me in more ways than one
i can't decide if you are a curse or a blessing

i used to know a boy who said the same about me
he stopped putting milk in his coffee because that's how i take mine;
black

i think i love you as much as he loved me

i think the world would be a better place if we all just drank the coffee that we like
coffee is not a substitute for love
i forget that sometimes

i stay loyal to you even in another man's arms

**** iced coffee

Why do I stay?
Because this is all I know
I've only seen a sky with a storm
And the sun burns me
His touch
It burned me at first
But the fire began to eat me
Until I knew nothing
Except bones and ash
I am bones and ash
I am empty
I am giving him everything I have
I am bones and ash
I stay
Because this is love
This is the only love
I have ever known

everything's breaking
and i'm running
to the only place
i've ever known
to the only place
i've ever called home

i'm running to you-

1.
i fear you more than i love you

2.
sometimes i wish you were dead so that i wouldn't have to leave you but i wouldn't have to live with you either

3.
i went to dinner with a friend you forbade me to see. when i hugged him, his body was neither as soft nor as warm as yours and i didn't like it very much. there was no ****** tension; only liberation, and deep, deep guilt.

4.
sometimes i lie to you about my phone being out of battery. it's on airplane mode because i need some time to myself and you don't like it when i ask for "alone time". why do you need alone time, you always ask. i don't know how to explain it to you anymore.

5.
i wish i had never met you because i am in a cycle of evil and fear and guilt and pain and sure some days you make me feel loved but mostly you just drive me insane. insane, not in the oh my gosh i'm so in love way but in the i don't know what's real anymore way.

6.
i feel weak because i am not strong enough to leave you.

7.
i feel strong because through it all, i have survived.

few words are left to say
goodbye is the loudest.

i wrote a lot of great poetry when i was in love
i wrote even better poetry when i was in pain
i wrote the best poetry when i realized that the two emotions were actually the same.

"i can't box you"* he says to me
narrowing his firewood eyes
the silver air breathing spring
i get closer to the warmth of his body
and smile-

because i can box myself so ******* perfectly
it's the thing i hate the most
i'm your typical straight A
anghsty teenager
who never called herself a poet
but spends her days writing
to boys who never loved her
and a dad who was never there
i had a photography phase-
which girl hasn't?
took pictures of people
when they weren't looking
finding beauty in others
when what i needed most
was to find beauty in myself
went through an anorexic phase
i'm better now-
skinnier than before, but,
i eat a single 1200 calorie meal
but take my coffee without sugar
(saving the dime and spending the dollar)
tried finding myself by hurting myself
and even though the blades disappeared after a while
the pain kinda lasted
but you know, it's not all that bad
i mean, i eat, i sleep, i jog, i read
i sing in the shower
i live in a house with a mom who loves me
a sister who loves me so much that she hates me
i'm your typical kid
stuck between self-worship and self-loathing
loved taylor swift,
loved fallout boy
get the picture now?
thought that rebelling would give me fulfillment
cut my hair and dyed it orange
ran away to my best friend's house
watched her have *** with boys twice her age
sat alone in a corner away from their embraces
because the black eyeliner and leather jacket
still hadn't seeped their way into my heart
(don't touch me i'm afraid)
i had my first kiss at 16
i had *** at 17
i had my first pregnancy scare at 18
(don't worry we used protection)
i promised to marry him
but kept him a secret because my parents wouldn't approve
come on-
does it get more 'boxable' than that?

'you're so different.' he mumbles
between breaths tainted with the taste of my skin
i play with his fingers
(i think i'm in love with the birthmark on his knuckles)
he takes my silence for agreement
and i kiss him goodnight
driving back to my white-picket fence house
taking off my shoes before entering
my mom doesn't like ***** shoes on the carpet.

my face-wash is a whitening cream
but what if i don't want to be white?
what if i just want my skin to be clean
since when did white and clean begin to come in the same package?
are white people the poster-children of cleanliness
because they've washed their hands
with the blood of my ancestors?

am i *****
because i have not?

it bothers me when my grandmother tells me
that i am lucky
because i was born the fairer one of the two sisters
she says she fears for what i would have looked like
had my colored mother not fallen in love with a white man
mixing her ***** genes with his pure ones
to create a mix-bred child, who, in any case
was better than being born brown.

it would have been a sin
for me to have colored skin

i am still dealing with the remnants of my colonial past
because i am still afraid of telling my mother
that i am in love with a colored man
she will accept him because he is loving and kind
but in the back of her mind
there will be a little voice that whispers
wouldn't it have been better if he was white instead?

and i've heard a lot of people tell me
"thank God your hair is the right kind of curly
not the frizzy, afro-like hair
wild and free
thank God your hair is tame
thank God your hair falls in neat little curls
(you got your dad’s genes!)
thank God
we can hold it
and mold it
into what we like
thank God your hair is the right
kind of curly."

you see my mom escaped by marrying a man with white skin
but with me the cycle begins again
because he's two shades darker
and my children will be too
the white genes of their grandfather
lost
among the dark genes of their father-
with chocolate eyes and hazel skin

i am still struggling to see at my father
as one of "us" and not one of *"them"

and it took me some time
to realize that i was dating
a boy
not a man
that i wasn't looking
for a boyfriend
i was looking for a dad
hold on a second
its not what it seems
theres no oedipus complex
this isn't ******-y
this is a girl
who can never love a man
this is a girl
who never had a dad
this is a girl
that wants love-
the pure kind-
the lets go for icecream at 3am
lets go to the park
lets name all the animals at the zoo
this is the girl looking for protection
by sticking her head in the cage
her safety net
is a beard and colored eyes
and it took her time to realize
that every boy that smiles at you
doesn't mean well
and when they say they love you
don't think they will hesitate before they leave you
because they won't
don't
be fooled by their smiling eyes
girl you need to realize
your father loved you
and he meant well
still
he left and these boys no they don't love you the way he did
they won't save you from the demons in your head
baby girl
still
lie still and know
that "boy" isn't a safe word
and "man" doesn't mean love
and that the bridge between those who stay
and those who leave
is jammed with those
who said they'd be
here.
stop looking for a man.
stop looking for a dad.
you-
you
are enough.

don't hold me to the promises
i whispered in your ear
with my champagne tongue
rolling in that bed of roses

what happens at midnight
need not see the dawn.

We order a mushroom-cheese omelet

Now see you’re the kind of guy who eats jam on toast
And I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t eat toast as all
So when the plate comes, I give you both pieces of toast
And you spread the strawberry jam on it
While I’m busy cutting the omelet in half
But before taking a bite of anything
We both pick up a hashbrown simultaneously
As if somehow we’d planned the entire thing
And we both take a bite of it and
We love it
It’s cooked to perfection and potatoes are my weakness
Back to the omlet though,
So I’m not that great at cutting
And the omelet cut unevenly in half
So you take the smaller piece
Even though you’re bigger than me
And I steal the bigger piece
Even though I’m smaller than you
And you eat your half in three bites
While I’m struggling with mine
And the string cheese is caught somewhere between
My fingers, my mouth and the plate
And it takes me a while to eat
About twenty bites in, there’s no way I can eat more
So I ask you to eat what’s leftover
I guess I should have given you the bigger half to begin with
But I guess that’s just how we work
Where you’ll always take the smaller portion
But end up eating most of the food
Because I’ll always take the bigger portion
And leave most of it untouched
You eat my leftovers in two bites
And the coffee arrives
I almost knock over your espresso
While reaching for the complimentary cookie
I eat my cookie
And then I eat half of yours too
And by this time I’m pretty full
But I see a sign for a free cookie
And I want it
You don’t really care for it but you laugh
Because you haven’t seen me want anything as bad
As the cookie (it's free!)
And so you get me the free cookie
And I’m too full to eat it
So I put it in my bag
Very proudly; it’s my success for the day
I finish my Americano faster than you finish your single shot espresso
So you give me a sip of yours
But you drop a few drops on me
And now my pants look like they have blood stains
And I smell of espresso
And you’re trying to clean it with a tissue
But the waiter thinks we’re doing something naughty
So I tell you to stop
And even if we were doing something naughty
Who’s the waiter to say anything anyways
Anyways
So we finish out coffee and we call for an uber
And my pants are stained
And I’m carrying my cookie
And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier
While we wait for the uber
You steal my glasses
And you try them on
They look funny on you
I like them on you
I think I like you
And you can’t see anything
And I can’t see anything either
Except for your outline
That’s enough for me
So the uber comes
And he calls us
And we’re leaving
At the counter you pay
And I see a Nutella cookie in the window
I want it
But you just paid for breakfast
So I’ll keep quiet
We sit in the car
And I put on pomegranate lipbalm
And I give you some too
Your lips look nice and soft now
And I think today has been a really great day
And I think you fit me well
Because you love toast and I leave toast
And it works out
(except for that baked tomato no one ate)
But look the point is
Is that we work
Well.
And we squish in the back of an uber
And guess what?
The seat was made for two.

We ordered a mushroom-cheese omelet
It was a good day

it's raining and
the sky is cracking and
the clouds are growling and
all i can hear
with my ill ear
are the gentle drops of rain

the rain has broken
all the telephone wires
there is static when i try
to reach out to you
the internet died
sometime last night
and there's no way i can
speak to you

the cable was taken away and
the lights are flickering and
my phone short-circuted and
my laptop overheated and

i'm disconnected

i'm thinking back
to our last few days
and thinking of
the words i never heard
the words you never heard
when the calls dropped and
the line went numb
did you ever even hear me
when i whispered
"stay"

and i wonder now
maybe that was the problem all along
maybe we were always on the verge
of making our always into forever
and maybe our love just got stuck in

bad connection.

my flu turns to a sinus infection and my mom tells me it could have been avoided if i'd only taken medicine to begin with and didn't try to act like a superhero how do i explain to her that for once in my life i just wanted to fight by myself and fight alone and fight to success and so much for that because what started off with a little sneeze is now an emergency and i'm stuffing antibiotics down my throat and falling down the stairs due to vertigo and it hurts you know it hurts it doesn't feel good to have your head full of sinus and i want someone to take a syringe and insert it into my temple and pull out all the liquid and maybe some memories too i think i've reached cognitive overload and okay so maybe my plan to be self-sufficient didn't work out so great but that doesn't mean i can't save myself right? right? i don't know anymore i'm not so sure anymore i don't know if i can get back on my feet when just a little infection gets me in bed praying for light to consume me and end this now i can't even handle a sinus infection for the love of all that is holy and kind how am i going to survive anything in this cruel world when i can't handle a sneeze and it reminds me how you'd still kiss me when i was sick and even though we hadn't met in months you'd be okay with just cuddling and not having *** if i didn't feel like it when we finally did meet and do you remember when our biggest problem was me being on my period on the days i wanted *** and do you remember how we had *** anyway and do you remember how it felt and do you remember how i was (who i was) do you remember? and this sinus infection feels a whole lot like love it gives me a headache and makes me want to die but somewhere inside i want it to stay because being sick is a great excuse to give others when they ask you why you look so pale so sad so down it's a great excuse to give when people ask you why your eyes are so red you can tell them the infection kept you up all night instead of revealing how you had a dinner party with your demons until 4am before realizing that the tea was poison and your demons in your head i'm thinking about the kid in my literature class who showed up ****** and i wonder if that takes away his pain i don't plan on getting ****** but i have red eyes all the time anyway so why not right? why not depend on a drug why not depend on an antibiotic why am i trying to save myself when the world has provided me happiness in a pill and instead of fighting all the time all i have to do is swallow (i've always been good about swallowing, ask him he'd tell you) and i guess this pill is just another thing to close your swallow even though you don't want it down your throat and i guess it's time to lay down my arms and say here, you win. i give in. the food festival is tomorrow and my  aunt tells me not to go because there are open wires on the fields and the rain has given them more life than ever before and oh i've always had a love-hate relationship with food (more love than hate anyday but that's the whole problem anyway) and i think i'm going to go to the food festival- whether for the doodh patti chai or for the danger of open wire shocks; **i'm not so sure yet.

i've had a flu for the last week and a half i can't sleep at nights anymore because i can't breathe but i haven't taken any medicine because i want to fight it myself i want to fight this myself i am stronger than these pills and i will fight with my own body my own strength i will go down fighting i cannot rely on external substances i cannot rely on something or someone to save me i have to save myself i HAVE to save myself i have to save myself save myself save myself it's my mantra: I HAVE TO SAVE MYSELF and i'm thinking of the time my luggage was wrecked and my purple lamp was in there and that lamp was a memory because i remember you turned it on while you lay on top of me so that you could see me just a little better (i wanted it dark so that i didn't have to see myself) you wanted to see the curves on my body because you loved me and i can see you infront of me right now while i type this there in those black jeans with your broad shoulders and your mouth just a little softer than my own and just like that lamp my love was wrecked and it came back in more than two pieces the ocean just wasn't kind enough wasn't soft enough it didn't care enough to transport my love with the care it needed and tell me do you remember the time i screamed save me no wait get away from me save me love me get away from me and you touched me then moved back because you didn't know what i needed you didn't know how to save me but you knew how to love me. that was enough. it was enough. you were enough. enough. enough.
and just like the pills i refuse to take you were that drug i was too scared to need and that dependency broke me and that fear is breaking me and i love you enough for the both of us but like that purple lamp i'm just a little broken and i'm fighting to light up the room and see things just a little clearer and on my way back from school today i saw the electric boxes with warning signs and i opened the car door and walked to them and i tried pulling the 440 volt wires to touch them and fry myself; maybe i'd light up then but someone saw me and i ran and i ran to my house and my mom doesn't know that i'm suicidal but that's okay because i don't have the guts to **** myself anyway *(but i tried today).

don't tell me about your first love-
tell me about your last.

tell me how he made you believe in love
when you thought your time had passed.

tell me how he made you feel
when you thought the butterflies were dead.

tell me how you tried silencing your heart
and all the crazy thoughts in your head.

tell me how he taught you
to love just a little bit again.

tell me how it was like taking your first step
how it was like to once more begin.

tell me how you thought your heart was dead
how you'd been hurt too many times before

tell me how you saw yourself falling for him
and constantly wanting more.

tell me how you thought you weren't worthy of love
tell me how all those thoughts vanished with one touch

a year, a decade, a century
how no time with him was too much

tell me how he excites you
how you're seeing colors you didn't know existed.

tell me how you finally gave in to giving love another chance
how you couldn't fight it, no matter hard you resisted.

tell me how you thought that love just wasn't for you
tell me how being with him makes you feel love is just for you.

tell me how the world seems just a little better
tell me how the grass is greener, the sky a little more blue.

tell me about your last love;
the one who really stayed.

how he's the missing piece of the puzzle
the one for whom you always prayed.

tell me about your last one
the one standing by your bed.

the one you hold on to a second too long
before you forever rested your head.

we were built so fragile
just about to fall
but look at how we fight
look how we stand tall

human bodies
weren't made to sustain
but we conquered it, we broke it
we bared the pain

from typhoid to bad falls
a deep cough, mental stress
after all we are susceptible to
you'd think there'd be nothing left

but we have survived plagues
we have fought through the wars
airplanes were built to sore the skies
submarines to explore the waters

heart break can **** you
(trust me, i'd know)
but 7 billion broken hearts
and we still don't let the hurt show

we walk into work
we raise our children
we do what needs to be done
even when we're broken within

we help one another
empathize with anothers pain
put aside our worries for theirs
even when there's nothing to gain

kindness, solidarity
contribution, charity

we are the children
of a nation that survived

when the volcanoes erupted
when the ground shook
when our homes were consumed by fire
and all we could do was look

when the floods took our babies
and the tornadoes took our homes
we rebuilt from ground up
and prayed for our children's souls

prayer and endurance
might and fight
we have pushed through the darkness
without the promise of light

ask me and i'll tell you
how my dad was so sick he was left for dead
ask me and i'll tell you
how my mom sat every moment by his bed

ask me and i'll tell you
how many nights i slept well
ask me and i'll tell you
how my mom never let us find out he was ill

ask me and i'll tell you
the tears she wept when he was well
ask me and i'll tell you
the tears she wept when got up and left

ask me and i'll tell you
i've seen hurt, i've seen pain
ask me and i'll tell you
i've seen guilt and i've seen shame

ask me and i'll tell you
the stories of my grandparents during the war
ask me and i'll tell you
that they still smile, even though they remember the horror

ask me and i'll tell you
how my aunt held her 12 day old daughter
(her name was nour)
ask me and i'll tell you
how she kissed her forehead before laying her in her grave

ask me and i'll tell you
how easy it is for humans to break
ask me and i'll tell you
how easy it is for their worlds to shake

but ask me and i'll tell you
how much strength we have shown
even in the depths of darkness
we still have hope.

we are the children
of a nation that survived.

-to be human is to sin

you tell me that good people are everywhere
but where are all these good people
when the facts are screaming
"emergency, emergency"
"alert, alert"
when the facts say
that almost every ******* this planet
has at least once in her life
been touched in a way she didn't consent to
the facts say that most ****** predators
are known to the children
fathers;
fathers have ***** their daughters
while mothers cry silently
because the world does not want to hear
the stories under the blanket
the guilt and the shame
the pain.
the pain.

you say there are good people
show me
show me
that boy who gives to charity
his hand rode up my skirt last week
that girl who prays five times a day
she watched as her boyfriend called me a *****

my five year old cousin knows what it's like to be penetrated

i lost my virginity before i got my period

my best friend doesn't want to be touched because she sees her ******'s face in every man

i was blackmailed by a boy who said he wanted to marry me

my mom;
my mom and i have bonded over
what it feels like
to have
a man inside you
who doesn't
doesn't
belong there

what kind of god wants an empty heaven?
because the kind of people on this earth
the filthy **** who carved their names between my thighs
there are too many
there are too many
men who have done
women who have watched
silent observers
silent thieves
murderers
no one says anything
then they pray to god
but their sins
their sins are on my skin
see me
see me as i burn
see me as i burn
because if these repenters
who have lived their lives
hurting others
who say their grace
then stuff their ***** in my face
if these repenters
are who i will find in heaven
then i do not want to go
i do not want to go
to a heaven with them
i do not want to go
to a paradise
that looks a whole lot like hell

but if god
chooses to not forgive these repenters
then heaven will be empty
because we are sinners
we are all sinners
we ask for forgiveness
then do it again

i have lied
i have cheated
i have wished ill upon another

tell me; am i good person?
was he a good person?
when he ***** me then apologized
when he ***** me then prayed
when he ***** me then cried
and said he made a mistake

when he ***** me
said sorry
and did it again.

if he makes it to heaven
i'll take the other train
if he does not
then none of us will
because our devils are too clean
and our angels too *****

i'm not quite sure if i'm looking for repentance or for revenge
i have done wrong and i have been wronged
is there a place for me in heaven?

what kind of god wants an empty heaven?
what kind of god wants a heaven full of sinners?

where is the god that will love me?

where is the god that will forgive me?

i ran out of therapy and never went back.
no, it wasn't because i was afraid to talk about my problems
talk to me, talk to me about my anxiety and depression
talk to me about the slight hint of an eating disorder which i've carried in my sleeve ever since i was ten years old
talk to me about my fear of men and my need for their approval
i know my demons and i know them well,
i don't need to hide from them
i learnt how to face them ever since they stared back at me whenever i looked in the mirror and got tangled in the curls of my hair and i'm assuming they're hidden in the knots of my mind too

i ran out of therapy and never went back not because of my diseases but because of the fear of never finding a cure
you see i've tried the pills and i've tried the "lifestyle changes" and the yoga and meditation and all that
i've tried enduring it, i've tried ignoring it, i've tried fighting it
i've numbed it, i've hurt it, i've eaten it whole
but i've never tried to talk it out to a soul that has the potential to understand my soul
i talked to my best friend who recognized my demons because they inflict(ed?) her too and she listened and helped but she couldn't fix me, you understand?
and so i talked to my mom and she was a kind soul until she wasn't and said i was an ungrateful *****
then there was my favorite teacher who told me i needed help and that he wasn't equipped to do so
my boyfriend is still in denial, i think,
he listens though, a lot

but at the end of every failed attempt at a cure lies the same suggestions
"talk to someone, get therapy"
and i let myself believe that that was where the problem to all my solutions
no, sorry, i mean the solution to all my problems was
so i always had a back up, you see?
i always knew that when the sleeping pills didn't help me sleep
and when the yoga position did nothing more than pull a muscle
i always had a back up,
i'd call the therapist
i'd pull out the bigguns
and i'd be ok
because she had all the solutions
(the therapist has to be a girl, remember my fear of men?)
so the therapist always had all the solutions and so if i ever needed to be ok
i knew where to go

only that one day when stuff got bad
and i mean 4 hours in the ER with a morphine drip bad
i was sent to the therapist and ****
****
****
****
she was a good woman, you know?
a good woman with kids and a nice house and a cat and a dog who lived in harmony
all that great stuff
and she asked me about my family and all that
and i smiled and told her all that
and an hour and a half went past
and i felt really sleepy
like really sleepy
and still heavy and sad
and i said listen, woman, this costs way more than i can afford
so i need you to fix me in the next session
i'm sorry
she replies
in that therapist voice
(i HATE that voice)
i'm sorry
this will take months
weekly session
oh,
and you haven't paid yet
so please pay at the counter
and starting January
the fees for the sessions double
just a warning
then she led me out
and i saw her dog
and her cat
and her bookshelves
and they weren't the solution
they didn't help
there wasn't a magic pill
or if there was she didn't give it to me
and this would take time
time i didn't have
money i didn't have
i am not rich enough to be sick
i have work to do
i can't sit here and feel crap
i need a solution
i thought she was my solution
i thought she was my solution

i ran out of therapy and never went back
i tell myself the reason i'm still ****** in the head is because i didn't go through the whole course of therapy
that feel good
telling myself that feels good
because i still have a solution
my new solution is months of therapy
which i still haven't tried
and i never will
because i can't go to therapy and not get fixed
because i'll have nothing left then
i won't have hope then
i need hope now
i need hope more than cure now
so i think if i go to therapy long enough, i'll be cured
but i'll never go to therapy long enough
because i know somewhere inside that that isn't the answer
but i'll tell myself it is
i'll force myself to believe it is
ok therapy will help
when i spend the money and the time
it will it will
i will
be fixed
i can be fixed
there is hope.

When I think of man
I think strength
Power

Indestructibility

The boy that I love
He walks so mean
His arms
The veins bulge
And his eyes
Are so sharp

I wonder
Do men get sick?

I am the female
Days of illness
Wrapped in bed and
Hot water bottles
Aspirin and morphine
Are my best friends

I am frail
Small
Fragile, possibly

But man
Man does not hurt
Does not cry
Does not crumble
Man stands strong
Man does not fall
Man cannot fall

Man is power.

i am trapped in a body that is not mine

they say: what do you mean
they say: this body is yours

forgive me, for i do not know how to explain

how do you tell someone that there is a child inside your ribs
how do you tell someone that there are scars under your skin but you do not know where they came from
or how the morning sun hits your eyelids but you cannot see the light

i try to explain
and i say:
i was touched and claimed before i knew what it was to be claimed
i was his before i was mine
i was yours before i knew what that meant
i was public property before i learnt that humans are allowed to be private

i say:
there is a bird trapped in my throat and it chirps
there is a snake in my esophagus that is trying to escape
there is an elephant on my heart that longs for home
there is a burn on my arm from a forest fire, but i'm not quite sure how that happened
or which forest i was in
or who took me there
or when

i say:
he wolf-whistled me
or maybe i eve-teased him
or maybe he should have just ******* left me alone because i didn't ******* know what those words meant because i was ******* 5 years old

i say:
my ***** broke before i knew what a ***** was

i say:
my mother told me i was a woman and i cried

i say:
there is an itch in my mind that makes me want to pull out my hair

i say:
i am inside
this body
it is not mine
i am inside
this body

**it
is
not
mine.

there's this madness in the world
that i can't place my finger on

it's at the tip of your tongue
when you reach out to lick the icicle
so cold, so raw, so innocent
it's in the curl of your mouth
when you see those clouds rumble
the thunder that shakes you to the core
it's that glitter in your eye
that you have to hide every time
the music is a little too loud
and the drugs are a little too hard
it's dancing in the flames
when your fingertips glaze over the fire
of the rusted old stove that was never good
for anything but defrosting frozen dinners

there's this madness in the world
that i can't place my finger on
i can taste it closer than my mother's breast
and ****** it to my own heart
but i cannot for my life embrace it
without seeing death dance before me
there's this madness with an air of innocence and play
there's this darkness with light shining through
there's this oddity that makes perfect sense
there's something i can't place my finger on
there's something i know
there's something i feel

there
is
something
here-
**now.

we always met in between lovers*

we were 16 and broken hearted
he hurt me and she left you
and somewhere in the pain
we found each other for a moment
we were always a moment
never to be more
but for that moment
we didn't want more

few years later and we found ourselves
someone else
and silence prevailed over our bond
and that was okay;
i never told him about you
you never told her about me
we didn't need to
we were a moment
a moment gone
a moment preserved
and those years, they passed
i lost track
of where you were or who you became

until
we met in between lovers

she couldn't be with you anymore
i couldn't be with him anymore
we came back with new stories
new heartbreaks to share
we came back with memories
that we couldn't bare
to lose
we came back with the need
to not be alone for a while
someone to hear the
silence of our words
and so we spoke
and we spoke
and found comfort that we would never be
we could never be
and that was what made it
so easy
and we spoke
about loss and love
and so i spoke
about how i missed his touch
and so you spoke
about the smell of her hair
and so i spoke
about the color of his eyes
and so we laughed
about that day when this happened
and so we cried
about that day when that happened
and we spoke.
and we spoke.
and we spoke.

we always met in between lovers
we would never be lovers
we didn't need to be.

few years down the line
i wonder if i'll see you again
and it's bittersweet
because meeting you
means i have lost another
and i wonder
why do we always meet
not as friends
but
brokenhearted
between lovers?

there's the freedom
and then there's the silence
i could probably reach out
and break the silence
but it's taboo to tell the truth
except when it came to you

if i tell her i'm on drugs
it'll be oh poor child
announcing it on every tv station
every corner of the world will know
her daughter is better than me
(even though she sleeps with a different
woman every night)
but i'm the one on drugs

and then you tell
your friend and she listens
and she listens
and she listens
until the words float around her head
and stop meaning
and she goes numb
hasn't slept in days
and the words have
lost their meaning
you've repeated the same story
so many times
she'll hear it again
but you lost the impact
and
she won't say
you poor child
it's not what you want to hear
it's what you need to hear
maybe not

the rest of them
the rest of them are gone
and there's that one in the red shirt
but she's talking about knees and bees
and i don't think she wants to talk about me
but i want to talk about me
i want to tell someone how i feel
how the freedom lasted a week
then the silence
then the silence

now the silence

and you used to listen
to my stories of blood and roses
and somewhere in between
the lick of insanity which took away
your pain
and the lick of insanity
that brought it back
you found me
a mouthful of insanity
in a world of the sane
and i took away your pain
to give it back
harder
faster
you made me scream
harder
faster
you made me scream
it hurt
you hurt
you really hurt
but you were the pain
that reminded me
why i lived because
the freedom
then the silence
the silence doesn't feel
it doesn't hurt
i haven't cried in a week
you know?
i haven't cried in a week
and it's probably the drugs
but i haven't cried in a week

oh wait
no, i did cry
they were doing this workshop
and they talked about being forced into giving head
and i cried
i cried
infront of the crowd i cried because
i remembered
and i remember
and it wasn't all bad
it was kinda fun
but you know
the greatest things hurt the most
and i didn't like it very much

maybe it's the drugs.

it was a raindrop
it was a tear

it was all the reasons
i wish you were here

but it was too messy to call it making love

my hair got in his mouth
his hips were too low
my legs got in the way
the angles just weren't right
it took us a few tries
to just "get it in"

there weren't roses or candles
i was in a white bra and *******
there was no black lingerie
i had shaved my legs in the morning
but i still had stubble in the places i missed
he wasn't tall dark and handsome
i wasn't white skinny and ****

we didn't know what we were doing
and if we could see ourselves
i'm sure we'd have died of embarrassment
seeing the mess of arms and legs
and body parts in awkward positions

but maybe that was the whole point
we laughed
and we laughed
he had a lopsided smile
and he smelt like home
his touch was comfortable
and his mouth lit a fire inside me
those eyes were full of greed
for not my body, but for me
it wasn't "him" and "me"
we were a we
and together we went through the journey
of discovery
finding out how our bodies work
when they are with another
finding out which curve fits where
learning where to put my hands
when he climbed up on my hips
learning how his body responded
when mine arched in pain and pleasure

his exhausted body
holding on to mine for dear life
no one mentions the sweat in your eyes
or that urgent need to ***
no one tells you that maybe you won't bleed
and maybe your favorite song won't be in the background
and maybe you don't walk out a woman, no longer a girl
no one tells you that *** isn't this magical thing that stops your whole world

but they leave out the good bits too
there's so much they don't tell you
like how, when it's over, he whispers *i love you
how his gaze drops when he says you're beautiful
how you can climb out of bed without pants and laugh
how he'll touch you in places you thought were sacred
how his touch will be worshipping the places you know are sacred
how *** doesn't change who you are
but at the same time:
it does.
your body will always have his touch;
but that's okay.
because you want it to stay
maybe he was a moment
or maybe he is forever
but when you were together
you loved him and that's what mattered
safe & comfortable
passionate & loud

it took me a long while to be able to write this
because it was too messy to call it making love
but maybe that's the whole point
because love is messy
and making it, even more so
but its a mess you don't have to clean
(except the bedsheets)
maybe, just maybe
it was messy enough
to call it making love.

i always knew i tempted your desires
your hungry eyes on my fair thighs
i saw the way you looked at me
when i bent over to pick up a flower from the ground
to tuck behind my ear; my curls laughing in the wind
i was warm and gentle with a fire in my eyes and a taste for danger
you couldn't place me: whether i was a ****** or a *****
the curve of my back told you stories about hands sliding in my pants
but the freckle on my cheeks told you i'd never touched a man in my life
you weren't sure what excited you more
thinking i was a **** for free,
a school girl without a history,
or knowing that you'd never know which one i was.
i knew that the length of my neck
gave you ideas about your teeth staining the skin
that my pink parted mouth
was built for you to crawl inside it
baby girl or ***** *****
you never could decide which
only that i played out your ******-***** fantasies
untouchable, waiting for you.
innocent outside, ***** to the core.

i always knew i tempted your desires
by my mere existence and the shape of a woman
i saw the way you looked at me
but i never thought you'd pin me to the wall
while i screamed for freedom into your hand
my muffled cries tempted your desires and you couldn't help but enjoy it
when the blood ran down my thighs
your dilemma was solved
and you realized that no one had touched me
the way you had
that tempted your desires
so you did it
again
and
again
and
again
until
i no longer
bled
or
cried
the fire
in
my
eyes
died
and
you
were
no
longer
tempted
by
my
******
in-betweens
or
the
dimples
in
my cheeks.

you
walked
away
free.

I.
back when i was fresh
as the sweet summer air
love was the boy next door
who'd cycle round and round
in the park which my window overlooked

II.
when the chilled leaves blew through
the open front door that autumn
love was the boy with big glasses
and open books from which he'd read to me
while we sat on the wooden swing on my porch

III.
bitter winds and chattering cold
winter brought with is an ache in my bones
love was now the boy a dying heart
he ****** at me to keep him warm
while the snowflakes kissed my blue lips

IV.
but, oh! when those flowers bloomed
and the breeze of spring smelt of second chances
love walked in with a mind full of stars
and a twinkle in his eye
we spent the night exploring the galaxies

V.
the sun peeked out this year
after a year long sleep, to warm my day
this summer, he looked at me and my spring love
& smiled- because this time, *love was here to stay.

i sunk my toes in the sand
and carved your name in the sea
i looked up at the sky
& hoped i'd find you looking back at me