Hips, curves and all,
Spilling and slipping with
Tip-top, filled up
Love,
Baby

Finitude, the luck of humanity
Where gods sit on clouds
Dreaming to be cleaved from eternity

You thought you could spread your legs
to the first stranger who spoke your name,
but even then you were so ashamed of your skin,
the marks and scars of the body you were born in
that you eloped.
You never came back.

You asked what you had to do to be loved.
To be wanted.
It was all you've wanted.

The first boy whom you confessed to smiled, amused,
and asked, so?

It's the question you've been trying to answer all your life.

so?

Your first kiss was at eighteen, ugly and untouched.
He only wanted your body,
but you've forced yourself to think otherwise.

Oh, love.
It is so sad to live in your own body,
to watch him watch her,
watch her link her arm around you and starts
telling you about her problems

Problems.
oh, you had them too.
but you were just a listener,
with ears always, always open.
you felt like a mute. your mouth filled with sand.

Do they know how much you love yourself?
You did.
You had to.
You were trying, but no. You were not enough.

At night he is always there, in your bed.
Your brother, i mean. Whispering how much he loves you.
But in the morning he is gone
and you have not seen him ever since.

This does not make sense.
No, no more questions.
Nothing will ever make sense.

Today, you texted a boy who used to love you,
and when he didn't text,
you nodded to yourself.
it's alright. you expected this. be calm. don't panic.

your friends call you the queen of sarcasm, of loudness.
Some asked why you were always so depressed.

Depressed. Empty. Sad. Vulnerable.
It's all you've ever been since the day
you saw the front door close behind your father.
Since the day you left your own country.

But your days no longer revolve around your mother's sadness, or your father's violence.

And you are too old now. No more lighting candles. No more days of fresh hotel sheets and smells of sunscreen.

In December, a boy confessed he liked you.
You didn't want to choose him because you were lonely.
And when you wanted to choose him
because you were lonely, he was not there.

You thought if he comes, you would give him all your love.
All the yellow light you've been hiding in your heart.

You wanted simplicity. Love and his eyes.
Stop, this is getting too long.

I'm still miserable.

don't get me wrong -
there are pauses, and there are breaks.
there are beams of light, there are glimmers of hope
and there are days where happiness is so golden,
I can practically feel it salting on my tounge,
dancing in my brain
and some small part of me almost begins to believe that
things have changed -
it's going to be better now.

but of course, night is still well and alive,
in it's deathly gloom.
and of course, the petals always plunge through
in a sickening cold snap
and I am brutally reminded that
spring
is just season, not a way of life.

and although the why is given a different name -
boys, alcohol, displacement, bad job -
i find myself surrending to the currents
that is winter days, where sunlight
burns to cold, midnight ash within a few hours.
every few weeks or so, the darkness returns
pinching out the flame that i had spent so much time trying to reignite and
oh, not again.

but again and again, the night falls,
the stars spiraling out of place until
the cold and the heaviness have anchored in my chest
like a yawning need for eternal day -
I'm suddenly left wondering if i should even fight it.

When they sent us on our way,
They told us the path would always be clear -
Blinded by faith, we listened.
No doubt in mind, we kept on.

Now knee deep in the ghostly twilight,
The stars and the sky have all lost their hue
And the trail has ended.
A howl rises in the night -
*"What has become of this?"

And you're the one person I miss -
I miss you so much sometimes it makes me sick.
Its only happens around now,
In the twilight of sleeping and waking,
And for some ******* reason
It's just you.
I mean, I've had dozens of loves ones
Stumble in and out of my life
Like wandering ghosts.
And still they utter that I'm a hermit
When they hear the empty din of silence
Instead of reverbing "I miss you!"s
And the echoing "lets get together sometime!"
I am not one to latch on;
I do not reel them in, I do not bait.
I would much rather drink alone
Then get giddy off of shots and beer pong with
Lonely company.
But you -
For some **** reason, you -
You make me sick with longing.

oh, what a carousel it'd be
wedding veils, red roses -
what a carousel it'd be
if i was more than your late night girl.