The first time I heard the phrase
“Who’s your daddy?”
Because my young mind lives in my sexually abused body
I knew it wasn’t just an innocent query about who my father was.
As a young child who never really got to play pretend
With anybody but myself
I mastered the art of locking my skin in a bedroom
And conjuring my own playmates.
I remember the first time my dad left
To work in a place far enough for me not to reach him
I didn’t know that it was also the last time
That everything in my life was going to feel
Like how every little girl’s life should be
When I look back now,
I remember one post card from my dad
Wherein he told me to not be hard-headed
But mostly I remember moving to a new bed space with my mum
And sleeping on the floor, some nights without dinner
Some nights with my mum trying to not let me hear her crying.
I knew that I had nothing compared to my rich fair-skinned friends
And sometimes I asked God, why.
I was a small, petite girl who shouldn’t feel comfortable
having curse words buried beneath her tongue
But ended up the most badass out of their group
When she knew how to say ******* to every boy
Who teased her for having curly noodle hair and dark skin.

The next time I heard the phrase
“Who’s your daddy?”
I tried so hard to picture him smiling
But end up with the image of his new wife, with his new child
Smiling as if I never existed,
As if the part of his life that included us
Was just a manuscript that never got published.
As if I was a useless prologue to the actual novel
As if I was a vase of ashes of the daughter I used to be.

Now, when I hear the phrase
“Who’s your daddy?”
I try to reflect the question back into empty hollows of my belly
I try to look for the answer amongst the dust left
when my father ran away from me.
Stop asking me who or where my father is
Because I have no ******* idea
I try so hard to remember being an innocent little girl in her daddy’s arms
But all I get is the post card of him telling me to not be hard headed
But daddy, this is how you raised me!
No, scratch that this was how the streets raised me
Because you were never there.
Hard head and hard heart matching with thick skin
Maybe this is why I am so comfortable with hurting myself
Because if I can be hurt by my own father
Abused my own uncle
Left by all of the men in my life
And still live
Then why can’t I do it myself?
This is why no one can tell me that it is not in a woman’s blood
To be in the position of a man
Because my mother was able to transform into a father
Without a script yet the play the part so well.
So after all these years,
You have the nerve to message me on Facebook
Saying “I’m sorry, my child”
I try to surface goodness in my heart
But you have melted everything into a puddle of blood
That empties through my wrists
So now I am telling you
That I am letting you go
because you have no child here.

I will not ever forget
How much I relentlessly could never wait to see
The numbers behind your eyes
How, when I saw 10
I knew instantly you were sad
I saw 10 when I saw
How you kissed that pretty girl
More passionately than when you kissed me
How you saw me
As a shattered piece of China
Regretful of what was
And In pain of what you couldn't fix
I saw 9 when your dog died
And I saw 9 when I left
I saw 8 when we fought
About something you didn't do
About something important
That has now been lost in the void called memories
I saw 7 when you called off our anniversary
'Cause I got hospitalized
And you were worried sick
How you couldn't live another day without me
I saw 6 when you got sick and I called off our date
I saw 5 the first time you confessed
With all the effort
And all the flowers
In stems and in words
And I without remorse
Turned you down
I saw 4 when I confessed
With none of the flowers
Nor intentions because I thought
I was being unfair
I saw 3 on our first date
How your eyes lit up
When you saw me
In that little blue dress
And every single date after
I see 2 everytime you saw me
2, everytime we held hands
2, every single time we were together
Here I am
Wanting to go back to 1
I saw 1 the first time I kissed you
And you kissed me back
1, everytime we kissed
1, The first time I spent the night
1, Everytime I spent the night
1, The first time I told you
Oh My God I think I love you
1, Everytime I told you
My God I still do
1, The first time I told you there wasn't a forever
But I promised you
Infinity exists
And everytime single time I called you
My Infinity

My Infinity,
Infinity does exist for us
My love
It lies in what has happened
And how much we remember
How much we can grab hold of
Inside our void of memories

My infinity,
How much of a fool I am
To realize your eyes
Are only reflections of mine

My Infinity,
You haunt me every nanosend
Of every second of my life

My Infinity,
Please
Never
Let
Go.


My Self,
Find the person
Who doesn't have all those sparkly numbers
Deep within their sparkly eyes
Who never speaks of math
Nor numbers
Nor anything related to Infinity
And
Forget your love  for numbers
And never ending endings

Dear Self,
Please.

March 17, 2014
4:17 pm

This.
This was the moment that changed everything.
When we reached the finish line of being friends
and the starting point of being lovers.
I remember how you made me feel like a prized possession.
Like I was a stuffed toy that you have finally got out of the crane machine.
I remember how you made me feel so wanted the first time that we met.
I remember how it felt when we first locked gazes and how it didn't feel like the normal stare, not physically but spiritually.
I felt your gaze pierce down to my soul
because it felt like you knew what I was really needy for.
I remember how the first texts were like, harmless flirting here and there,
you were slowly making your way into my heart.
I remember how everything changed when you started calling me baby.
It felt so right, so sweet, until I felt literally like a baby;
like you were a grown-up who knew so much more than I did
and all i could do was listen, all I could do was agree.
I didn't know how it happened, it just did.
You seemed like the perfect guy, everything you said was the exact response that I wanted but yet you managed to surprise me every time.
You made me feel special.

I remember how it felt when you said my name,
like the letters were just hidden under your tongue
because you've spent years practicing on how to say it.
I remember how my name sounded
like a melodious song every time it escaped your lips.
You made me feel like a prized possession.
Like a stuffed toy pulled out of a crane machine.
You didn't pick me because I was the best,
only because I looked like I was the easiest one to pull out,
one that you were sure wasn't going to slip from your experienced hands.
You knew I wasn't smooth enough to slip because I showed you how rough my skin was, how my scars looked like train tracks on my skin.
Looked like border lines on my surface, craters made by bullets,
turned my body into a war zone.
A prize, a glistening trophy with no use,
only displayed on a cabinet to make you look good, to make people see that you've achieved something. I was merely something pretty to look at.
Every minute that we weren't speaking was like a rope tied around throat
unabling me to speak, like a rope tied around my feet,
around every criss and cross of my body unabling me to walk,
to move from a place other than where you wanted me to be.

I finally learned the difference between stupidity and ignorance.

I was stupid to not realize that it was all just an act.
Just something to butter me up, to soften me into submission.
Because at the age of 14 it was easy to love you.

It was easy to pretend that you meant it
when you said you loved me back.

And I was stupid enough to give you an inside view of my soul,
I gave you pieces of my insecurities only to find you feeding off of them,
like a vampire feeds off a person's neck,
uses their allure to get what they want.
My insecurities gave you strength.
You used my fears as as a fuel, and my body was a map.
I was stupid enough to let you inside my thoughts.
But I knew.
I only kept ignoring the fact
that the only place you wanted to be was between my thighs.
I kept pretending,
kept ignoring the fact that you were only looking for an easy ****.

You wove your every I love you into a blanket, securing me,
making me feel safe from all those monsters under the bed,
from all the monsters inside my head,
telling me I wasn't ******* enough for you,
telling me that I am just another one of your play things,
just another one of your toys,
and that you go through girls
like you go through clothes.
The voices told me that I was no different than them.
That you would soon discard me
like a piece of gum that has lost its flavor.
Those three words were like fire,
keeping me warm, those three words were so beautiful
though my state was so pitiful.
I did not know I was moving too close until I got burnt.
Until I found myself cold without you,
you destroyed me.
The blood in my veins freezes, stopped circulating,
I wasn't able to function because I realized
that you were the player and I was the game.
You made me need you.
I let you put your hand inside my chest, clawing out my heart,
then breaking it.
I was a stitched up rag doll learning her parts as she loses them.
You left me with shards of broken glass that seemed to be irreparable.

But the worst thing of all was that on the night you gave up on me,
I gave up on myself too.

in an attempt to fit a square
into a circle
she shed her skin
rearranged her face
into something you'd look at
she chose her words carefully
saying things you want to hear
she colored her hair white
but her soul remained
as black as the night

on a crowded street, my surroundings begin to fade
as everythings blur together, its reality which i evade
gazing past people, off into space
i imagine for a moment that i'm out of this place
only to be brought back with the blink of an eye
to the streets where the blurred silhouettes of people pass me by
with a crowd that big, theres no room for indivduality
i feel like a minuscule pebble lost at sea
going with the flow i grasp at the air
even though i know there is nothing there
i'm lost but i dont want to be found
shouting out but i dont make a sound
diagnosing emotions without definitions
longing for change yet clinging to repetition
in search for solitude, being alone is not my goal
giving up my freedom as a subconcious toll
the darkness of reality mixes with the light of lies
creating a mist that acts as my disguise