Denial,
such a human emotion.

So quick am I to turn my back,
to close my eyes against the truth

So adamant that it must be wrong

it must

For if I am right I would have to face the consequences of something that is out of my control.


If denial is my first instinct, to claw my way out of the quicksand

then why,

when I came out,

did I never except denial from you?

They say we are like beasts in the night;

Senseless and wild.
Menacing fangs, ready to devour the world.



In truth, we are like wolves;

Untamed with teeth to rip apart all who dares threaten our packs.

With furs to cuddle the biting cold away, sharp ears and eyes to pick up on the first signs of danger.



In truth, we are like cats;

Finding our home back from the streets,

Or simply knowing how to get away from the hand that feeds nothing but pain.



In truth, we are like rats;

Blamed for a disease we do not have,

Deemed filthy and wretched by all who refuse know us.



In truth, we are like crows;

Beloved by the outcasts,

Flock together into groups, loyal with a love that can bring gods down.



In truth, we are like mint;

Impossible to get rid of, no matter how many of us you pluck out of this earth.

Persistent and all the more lovely for it.



You say we are like seeds planted in pots;

Destined to settle down the way the gardeners dictated, all other possible futures disregarded.



In truth, we are like the moon;

the phases are nothing but your refusal to see as us a whole.

Growing up, we know one day we'll die.

One single time.

They've never prepared us for when the first is not the last,
soul ripping out while we're still breathing.
A heart beats to the rhythm of what's now missing.

Darling, when you'll die a piece of me will go with you,
as I will mourn the deaths of both of us,
Until we will be reunited again in the endless oblivion

Blood is thicker than water.

I'm nine years old and my mother had sighed us both up for a dieting course.

At eighteen I still see how interchangeable fatness and ugliness are to her.

I still have to stop myself from thinking of skipping meals after I ate "too much".

Clinging to the fear of the slippery ***** that serves as my only guard.


I see it in my friends too,
comforted by their opposition for what my mother had embraced like gospal for the helpless fools.



Blood is thicker than water.

I like the hairs on my body.
The short and soft strands that cover my legs, blonde and black and all too
natural.

Removing them leaves my legs red and *****-*****- pickling for days but-

My sister laughs through a wrinkled nose,
My cousin tells stories, horrified, of women like me,
Mother says it's unhygienic and would not let me leave the house like this.


I haven't worn shorts in years.

But my friends' confident '*******' to everyone who isn't them,
who dares control their bodies and shame them into pain or hiding,

makes me feel like one day I might wear them again.



Blood is thicker than water,

I find it hard to talk to people.
The thought of discussing anything more than trivial matters makes my lunges heavy in my chest.

Talking to my parents- a heavy led filling what seem less and less like lungs with every passing second.

Talking to my friends- the heaviness doesn't always go away, but the weight doesn't get harder to bear.


I heard my mother tell a friend how her kids talk to her about everything.

A bitter laugh never tasted so much as the sea.



Blood is thicker than water,

Since I can remember myself, I never wanted kids.
Took me years so unveil why.

The dismissal cut deep when Mother assumed she knew me better than I do, a cruel arrogance for what she must only consider her property.
'You'll change your mind and give me grandchildren'

A payment for my life-
"Interest" she calls it.



Blood is thicker than water,

When I came out to you, dear parents, you once again ignored me

as if I hadn't tortured myself enough,

as if it hadn't taken me years trying to accept myself before you turned your back on me with cruel dismissal.

As if I don't still struggle.


All I have left is to fall back on my friends' support again,

being caught in their loving embrace without ever asking to.



They say you can't choose your family but-

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

If I told you I could love,
Would you finally be happy?
See me grovel at your feet, submit to your delusions of
The perfect world in the palm of your hand.

If I told you I could lust,
Would I satisfy your thirst with my lies?
Sweet drops of honey covered deception, the sting solely in my heart.

Could I live like this, I wonder.
If only I could face the road of rotten land, live in the shadows and the muck of sweet lies,
Of honey covered poison.

I could write ballads of love
Fake as the silicone fillings of the next word,
Beautiful as glistening eyes that never met

But if I forget the words by morning,
Sentences never put to paper, forgotten and forlorn

Would I even care?
Most likely not

Don't ask me for more that I can give,
I can only guess the consequences.

My heart and soul push against my mouth every time you analyze my answers,
sealing it shut with empty humor and nervous glances at the clock.

Your eyes scan me as an intrigued scientist would a lab rat.

Dismissing it as curiosity doesn't make me feel less of an open skull,
brain laid out on a table before your intrusive fingers.

Our languages got fixed up, I said one day.
You believe in unrestrained openness and I believe in boundaries.

A dog and a cat play together in different speeds.

I understand you feel like I'm not giving you enough,
but I don't want to pay for our friendship with every passing thought that crosses my mind, every emotion my heart has ever felt.

Sharing is like giving you blood.
Each drop drains me more and more until my heart is left empty, my vains running dry.

I know they don't exist, but sometimes I can't help but see you as a vampire.

When I say I don't want to talk about it you interpret it as an invitation to probe farther.

Telling you that it's none of your business would only turn you against me and I do not feel like running circles around my apologetic lies.

You said that the cracks you make in me will deepen our friendship, I'm afraid of falling down the endless void they create.

When I told you of the blood and the cracks,
you pitied me and said you'd wait for another moment to search into my psyche.

A venomous snake hiding in a fruitful bush, my privacy is not a level to forcefully unlock.

I appreciate what you have shared with me, I have shared planty with you as well.
Don't weigh them against each other, the percentages are nothing but a false debt.

And after you hear this poem, don't run to me with glistening tears and ask me for more that I can give, I don't owe you my life.