the thing about fires
is that sometimes
you just have to watch them
burn

"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.