When the glass shattered that day,
all I could think was—please stop.
Later, it became—I hope the pieces fit back together.
And now, it’s—I pray they don’t break further.
The pain, you ask?
It’s still there.
Only now, the numbness is manageable.

"Forget about him.
Let him go.
Don't think.
Just let go,"
So they say.

"Well ,why not?" I said
"How hard can it be?"

I kept thinking about forgetting him,
then fell asleep.
There he was again,
smiling in my dream,
as if saying, "Happy forgetting."

A stranger who doesn’t fit anywhere on Earth
Something about her skin
Too dark to be white
Not dark enough to be her heritage.

A girl whose skin is too light
Her hair not black enough
A girl wearing American clothes
Living the American way.

Little mixed girl
Who doesn’t even speak the language
Of her grandfather

Fake little mixed girl
Who talks about being Indian
To actually feel connected
To her culture

Yet, she knows it’s a lie
She doesn’t celebrate Diwali.
She doesn’t know traditions

Little mixed girl
Who isn’t ethnic enough
To get offended over slurs

Fake little mixed girl
Who knows her ancestors
Look down upon her
Whitewashed self
And feel nothing but shame.

Fake little mixed girl
Pretending to be something she’s not.