Clinking cutlery and stomping feet
Shuffling of the seats
Laughs and cries of " I won, I won! "
Adults outside playing ping pong
There's music and dancing
Little girls prancing
Baby boys playing with their toys

Nothing unusual to them
The usual birthday party fun
But not for the girl in the corner
Crying on the floor
Her hands covering her ears
In a usual birthday party

Someone asks you
                         “Tell me something good that happened to you today”
                       My reply......



         I woke up and I’m alive....

They asked me if
I'd ever done drugs.
And I told them about
Your eyes.

you left me there
between foreign moons
and unknown stars

you are an artist.
you like to paint
                             smiles on your face to conceal the pain
you like to draw
                              laughs out of the hollow pit of your chest
you like to colour
                              your wrists red and taste the life flowing out of you
                              as if it would quench the thirst created
                              by the loss of someone that you knew
you are an artist
                             you love to create
                                                             you
                                                                     love
                                                                              to
                                                                                   erase.

i. the curly, green-haired
leo with the cry-baby tattoo
on her left calf; fish net stockings and
loud guitar playing and
menthol cigarettes. driving through
the park at 9 pm, ***** shots,
the white house with the a-frame roof,
hugs that made your heart feel as warm
as she did

crying as i left my room again to be
intertwined with a girl who did not love me, but i wanted to;
months pass, lonely car rides with
one-sided conversations and
seven years gone,
quiet disconnection
that made you feel as cold
as i did

ii. brown eyes, brown skin,
round glasses and chicago streetlights.
holding each other close on the subway
lakehouse parties in the beginning of spring and
pisces season and tarot readings and
soft kisses on the train.
holding hands at the aquarium,
sweet poetry and calm and
a sense of oneness that made you feel
important

hurt for the third time
a panic, a loss
i held their heart in my hands and
let it fall
harsh
unimportant
i still carry the guilt on my fingertips

iii. short hair. freckled cheeks, i
fell in love with the way the skin
crinkled around her eyes when she smiled.
an apartment, a home built
around our lips touching
wrapped in blankets on the couch,
dense smoke and her hand on my leg while she
drove. chinese food and
waking up against her chest and
laughing so hard
my ribs hurt

crashing. her anger withering away my
heartstrings; pain and
crying alone in the bathtub
moving away
drunk tears on the interstate
punching my thighs
in place of the way her
words made
me hurt

I got braces when I was 16
that year I never kissed anyone
but I made boys steal things from pricy bookstores
I measure time by my teeth
every year they get more crooked
the older I get they seem to shift back to old territory
old habits
old

now even smoking cigarettes feels boring
when I walk into bookstores
I leave sticky notes with advice I wish someone would have told me then

they did
but maybe if I had found it somewhere I was looking
I might have paid more attention
my retainer sits in a shelf collecting grime

We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.

he tells me he'll buy me a white house
with a picket fence and i laugh because
it sounds so absurd to me
why would anyone want to live in
this plastic world of despair
i mean, maybe i'm judging it too hard
but i just can't see myself
driving a mini-van with two kids
crying in the backseat complaining
and calling me "mom" as if they their
mother-tongue was not Urdu
i can't do soccer games and ballet lessons
or wait every night at 8PM to have a
family dinner
i am not anyone's wife in an apron
and there is nothing wrong with choosing
the american dream
just that its a nightmare for me
i want to finger paint the house a
million shades of rainbow
i want to tie a braid in my hair
and lie under the sun
let it kiss me until i'm brown
and free.
i want my children to blast
bollywood and dance with me
no choreography, just love
i want a husband who falls in love
with my henna covered hands and
the way i smell of the sea
i can't see myself settling to a world
where everything looks just the same
or a man who loves me in a clean,
innocent way
i know this sounds stupid and i'm not
one for crazy romance but
laughing during *** and screaming during fights
is something that feels more than alright
i like the edge and the stability in knowing
that you're not going anywhere, we're going
everywhere
i want my children to climb on their father's back
and tickle him until he cries
i want them to paint his nails
and tie his hair in little ponytails
i want them to go to the beach and not worry
about getting sand in between their toes
i want them to wake up in the morning
with their messy hair and lopsided smiles
i want them to run around the house
the way their parents did
chasing each other only to fall
into each other's arms.