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undefined Oct 8
I believe Home moves on;
without you, if it must.
And you find that when you try to return Home,
Home has changed,
Or it has grown.
Or it has moved out,
just like you did.
undefined Apr 25
i want to reach out and touch her hand
her hair is dyed pink but the blonde streaks show
her body is awkward and her skin is burnt at the shoulder
straps where she forgot to put sun block
and i want to reach out and feel her skin

there is a comfort in the familiar
we love what we know
and there is nothing more lovely
than knowing what she is because
it is what i am and i feel like i know
what will bring her joy and what will
bring her pain and there's something
so comforting about knowing that
her history is one of violence and pain but
she is of love and of kindness and
purity is over-rated but her heart is so

the history of man is ****** but
the history of woman is resilience.

how long i have admired the shape of
her body and it has taught me to love
my own.
i do not want to reduce my sisters to a
body or a touch because they are strong
and wild and honest and kind and there
is depth to them beyond being a kiss on
the lips and a stroll in the park.
i have such respect and longing for the
touch of kindness, one who has seen the war,
fights it now and fights it forever, but
loves you as if you were made of flowers.
she is made of flowers-
and iron and steel-
and blankets and cups of hot chocolate-
and truth and warships.

the touch of a man is pleasurable
but the touch of a woman is fulfilling.

looking at her now, i wonder if it is strange
to love her as a sister- as a warrior- as a leader
and to still love her as a lover- as a muse- as a body
to love a woman is to love a nation.
to love a woman is to love a war.
to love a woman is to love love.
to love a woman is to love yourself.
words don't do this justice.
undefined Jan 29
if i hold my silence now
i'll regret it forever
if i hold my regrets now
i'll stay silent forever.

you dated a brown girl
only to marry a white girl.

tell me how to separate
these wounds from my
colonial scars.
i'm still here,
trying to make it
in a world that wasn't made for me.

you fell in love with a brown girl
only to marry a white girl.

tell me how to feel like
i wasn't your taste test
i wasn't your "cultural experience"
i know you fell in love with me
you learnt my language
you memorized my tongue
but the night was
way too young.

will you give your child an "ethnic" name?
will your daughter have my name?
or was i just one of your
growing pains.

i'm just like my mother
falling for the ******
(i'd let you destroy me,
undefined Jan 29
you say you're dating a
"white girl from virginia"
and I laugh.

it's too much to ask
that you give me a chance
and i don't want to beg.

let's forget that we stay up
all night talking
we're on our way to
saving the world together.

let's forget that you go on hikes
with my dad and i have tea
with your mom.

let's forget that your name makes
my blood slow down a little
it's the kind of love which makes you
feel like you're at home.

i don't know if you ever loved me
i just know that i've always loved you.

maybe my skin was too brown
my name was too ethnic
maybe i just wasn't the right fit.

i hope you love her the way i do
silently, heavily, kindly.
if you love him, let him go.

- i don't want to write an anthology about you -
undefined Jan 11
it's not your baby
in the womb i carry
i need your forgiveness

we made no commitments
you do not claim me as yours
but i need your forgiveness

this is what i dream of
on an unsuspecting night
the child of my husband
in the womb in my body
and my mouth forming the words
'i'm sorry'

i have never touched your skin
and i do not think you ever loved me
but betrayal comes in shades
and i feel ashamed to let myself
be without your company

there is a sense of destruction
buried inside my veins
from the absence of you

there are things greater than love

which bind us together and i fear
such binding

it makes my ground shake when i catch
a ray of color which matches your eyes
flushed in the green of the grass
or the blue of the sky

i don't know when it happened, but it did
you found a little home for yourself
within the confines of my mind and
i miss when you were around

it hurts to see you and i don't want to feel you

because the distance and the rain
the deep guilt and the pain
the fact that you feel nothing
you will feel nothing
i fear

my love for you finds itself
manifesting in instances extra-ordinary
my ache for you is buried within knowing that there is another inside the womb of me
and can't get rid of the voice saying;
this isn't how it was supposed to be.
  Jan 3 undefined
are you the pieces put finely together,
or are you a togetherness, pulling apart?

and what lies in the in-between,
the borderlines, the crevices?

those things that bled
from your mind into hidden places

what did you lose in the battle of wits,
what did the darkness hide?
wrote this a while ago and it's just been collecting dust
undefined Dec 2018
there were so many pains
i hid you down there, down under
i thought we'd figured out the pain
we'd moved past the hurt
but i'm on a flight to another town
and its snowing and im floating
i never had the heart to delete
your music from my phone
and im trying to listen a little harder
so that i can hear your voice louder
than the music which envelops it
i want to hold you close to my heart
you are a black hole and i made it big
i left you behind when i moved up
but running forward doesn't mean you don't miss what you left behind
the plane is dark because the snow is heavy and white
i can hear your voice whisper
"hold on, i still need you"
and a tear runs down my cheek
the funny thing about pain is
sometimes the big things don't hurt as bad as the little ones
and sometimes new pains don't sting as bad as old injuries
they say your first always hurts more than your last
but my last ****** me up so bad i didn't think my heart had space for you anymore
i will always have space for you
we will never be, and i don't wish for us to have been
but I'd like one more late evening:
driving around in your car, singing along to eden, screaming at the top of our lungs at the beach
you live inside of me, in a place that cannot be touched, cannot be washed
there are things greater in life than love.
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