I'll move back
Then I'll belong
Where the land is beautiful… the streets are as clear as  Lazarus' soul
There I’ll meet my maker, the mother land.
Where I'll belong.
Hold conversations at the top of her hills,
But I’ll come with unwanted baggage, sneaked in from the airport- from a foreign land, to my father’s home,
The luggage is questions, its analysis, its rights, it’s not knowing I have a set place in this society
The land will try to beat these things out of me

And I know youll use youre gender nonspecific pronouns,
You think that won't hurt me
Ill tell you say he instead of they... if that's what it is it, it should be what it is. I wont think you any less or more
You can trade in her for him and she for he and its all ok
Its not my  fault, its not your fault
You dont choose who you love
That doesnt change that you loved me... once... in august, in may
May day may day I hear you calling
Dont fret, be free I know you loved me three and I loved you two
Its not my fault and its not your fault
You dont chose who you love
And that doesnt change that you loved me once and you love me still
And my heart still beats
Louder than crickets speak in a still, tranquil, night when you walk in a room. And I see you hold stares longer when they walk in than when I did, ****. My heart beats in anx-iety but its still all love.

Im never ready when I need to be,
I always leave when I should stay
Disconnect when I should connect.
It wasnt going to be any different with you.
I wasnt ready when you were.
Ill be honest, I want the things I cant have.
I tried to be less sabotaging like you asked
On the stairs, hand on my right cheek, you said I need you to know you are enough.
But who wants to settle when the winds beneath your feet and your always moving to greener grass.
At 3am you sent me small hands by keaton Henson
I dont blame you for leaving me cold, hanging, blue ticks, unresponsive.
I  still only look for you when all the doors are shut without any windows to jump through,
But even your welcome matt's been removed.

It's the last night  ill make love to you. Frank ocean's Godspeed will play, loud enough to drown out the countless failed efforts. We pushed our luck.Ill let go of my claim for you; its a free world. It cant even escape our lips that we didnt try. Ive been thrifting too long, I dont wanna have to always make something out of the old. I need that new new. And no one can say we didnt try.   Ill make love to you and what other lips couldnt say these will say. Smoke something, with me you could always  let the tears shed. We'LL dance with tears in our eyes and better love at our finger tips. Youll find better and ill stop thrifting find that new new, where I love you isnt an apology.

There's aways going to be a girl in Bangkok.
I know, I'm the flutter she is the tick tock, cant be silenced, comes out as action, at your finger tips, a text away, it soothes the inability to touch?
         There's always gonna be that.   
Theres always gonna be a girl in paris,
A little smarter, a little timid flower.
And what was it you said?
I'm a locked open book. A little too much give me love and meaning.
The time we lay on your bed, coversations about the end turned into how you cant feel anyones love. Blood and water hold the same consistency.  And I think I can change you.

The first night you were gone I drunk my weight in cheap drinks, swayed my hips to music that did not understand me, with lonely boys'     elusive hands around my waist.
As the beat changed and got quite enough for me to feel that you were missing, I moved harder and closer to the things that numbed me.

By the 11th day,my mother did not know what to do with me, I wanted to tell her id become as much a stranger to myself as I seemed to her.But  words failed, I shrunk within myself,  maybe I wasnt a person anymore

On the 24th day I remembered that I was still 24 and should be dancing, should feel more alive,so I took to the persciptions that numbed me enough to feel I had the world ahead of me or atleast in that moment?

I watched a documentary on force
Fed women in Mauritius, by day 30 I wanted nothing to touch my lips and fill my belly, and you tried.
              
Day 58 found me cleaning the house, I took a shower that did not consist of standing under running water, I combed my hair and oiled my scalp.  I called friends back. I also folded at my stomach once more and i was back at 1.
                                
On day 89 I tried, I felt alone, what lingered below the balcony no longer scared me, I woke up to wine, I smoked too much, stumbled in my family home at 5 in the morning. I stopped drinking in the mornings.

Ive been meaning to write,
Ive been meaning to write.  
But then again there's always someone ive been meaning to write. Theres always someone its about. I open my gmail but most days I dont know where to begin. The card I left you in august just before the leaves turn is still word.
Ive been meaning to write you,
to tell you life after you has been like a bull and some times it is calm, other days it is dragging me in the mud.
When I open my laptop to write, it feels like maybe im running back into a burning house.
You know me darling ive never been good at knowing when to let go.
you know me darling im an open book with a padlock.
What would you think of me. Would you still think me great if I told you that sometimes I held my tongue, that sometimes I held sharp objects alittle too close for comfort.
"It was a long time ago im not that person any more"
"Ok its just I know cleo used to... so if you need..."
"No I could never be that person again"
But sometimes life is a bull that drags you in the mud.