why should i remember
to call you papi
or say te amo
when you can barely
remember my name

i am in a room of my own.
a solitary confinement of
my own will, or
perhaps not?

there are a few doors
around this room.
the soft noise of mild chatter
emits from them.
yet,
i sit alone. in my room.

i am feeling
r e s t l e s s.

i open a door and i
see my friends round a table,
chit-chatting idly.
they laugh and welcome me
to the table.
today, i say a salutation
and shut the door behind me.

i do the same with the rest.

i walk back to the middle of the my room.

i start to c
                  r
                    y.

Going out with you is like taking a unknown bus,
I do not know where it goes
Nor do I feel comfortable.

Talking to you
Is like reading a foreign language book.
I do not understand .

You want to know what I'm doing,
But I'm a free and independent woman
I do not need weights to tie me down.

I may tell you I'm sorry
But I'm not sorry
Because through all my life
I've learnt to survive on my own.

anxious to fold itself into letters of perfumed language

here, i offered a small thing,
a weak thing. a thing that doesn't speak
or move, but briefly feels warm to a palm's touch.
i offered it so slowly, without realizing consciously what i'd done,
but when i do notice...

when i do notice,
my palms shake as i watch it spill to the floor,
regret twinges all over and i
made such a huge mistake. such a huge mistake.
i took a chance. i risked, i risked because
life tells you

reach, reach, reach
whispers
don't think, do
paints a possibility portrait, makes you fall in love with ideas
and then you stumble through
you trip.
you offer it,
and you can't take it back.