how to make milk chocolate:
first you heat the cocoa until it is fully melted
until being cocoa, warm and brown, is all it knows
then you pour in the white milk,
suddenly, then all at once
drown the cocoa in a new culture
drop it off in a foreign country
forced assimilation
until the brown of the cocoa starts to disappear
and it slowly turns lighter
and more acceptable.
you cannot keep cocoa by itself
because dark chocolate is ugly
thick body hair and crooked teeth,
no blonde hair or blue eyes
and bitter, making it good for baking
where it can be silenced and conformed
to the standards of the west.
to make a sweeter chocolate:
apply fair and lovely twice a day
combine milk and icing sugar
stir until no trace of the original brown shade is left
a cultural genocide
stir until the dark goes away,
and compliments start to come.
thread your eyebrows weekly,
don't touch the chocolate while it's on the stove
both will burn, however
one will leave you envying the girls
who copy what you were born with.
from kidnapping the cocoa beans from her mother fruit
to packaging it in plastic
for consumption by others who will never appreciate
the rich, impeccable culture you come from

she greets them with a smile
           she goes home and she cries
"we haven't seen you happy in a while!"
          "my smile is full of lies,"
she's just really cold,
          her wrists are stained red
"you're doing well," she's told
          she wants to be dead
they're glad she's okay
          she tried to take her life
she said she's happy today
          as she played with a knife
she said she wasn't hungry
          she's desperate to e thin
she lives happy and free
          but will let her sadness win
she's going to bed
          she's going to die
she swallows pills then lays down her head
          her life was a lie

we were naïve and young then
kissing while the horses neighed in their pen
cliche as this might sound
they took my joy, ran it aground
everything changed when they took you away
i could never forget that day
nothing would ever be the same
even the horses stopping being tame
we'd never be as happy as we had been
after that day in 1918

one by one they shot you down
could they see my tears or my frown?
but my boy was stronger than the gun
and they knew they weren't done
a rusty blade went through your chest
they dumped the bodies in the west
a new republic has been born
faced to the world just to be scorned
the world would never be as it had been
after that day in 1918

you knew your end was near you said
when the disease left you sick in bed
we never imagined it'd end like that
left your body to the rats
nothing would ever be as it had been
after that day in 1918

boys don't come with manuals
how-to guides, or instructions
but i hope this will help you to somewhat understand
the troubled mind he is.

he's not very good at remembering plans,
you'll have to remind him constantly
he'll apologize, but he'll do it again
you'll get used to it.

he will put his family before you
in a sense, it is admirable.
he won't introduce you to his brothers,
he isn't close to them anyway,
his mother is judgmental but accepting.
his father left his mother years ago;
but he still sends him half his paycheck every week
something he complains about
but he does it out of love.
the only women he loves more than you are his sisters
the elder will hate you,
he'll tell you she doesn't, but you know
the way she'll avoid your looks
and hiss at him, "she's here"
when you come to visit.

he's tall and lanky
you'll want to laugh at how he walks
he'll fold over in half just to kiss you
you wonder how he does it.
he's as skinny as a twig -
(strange considering the only dates you go on are for food)
but his arms are strong
he'll carry you home, to bed
and hold you close always-
to make you feel safe, or because he feels safe with you
i don't know.

his face is a bit paler than the rest of him
but on his cheeks glow many freckles
that sparkle like millions of stars
they go across his strawberry shaped nose
you'll try to count every one as you lie on his chest
and he rests his chin on top of your head
in the serenity of outer space.

he doesn't know much about soccer
but he'll support any team you don't
just to bother you.
it's cute.
he'll listen to you talk all day about a bad game
and he'll mention something he read about it
even though you were the one who showed him that article.
you won't say anything
even when he pronounces the foreign team name wrong.

he's passionate about film
he wants to be a producer some day
he could do it too if he tried
and didn't spend all his money on ****
and gifts for you.
he'll talk to you about his favorite movies,
but not about the plots or actors
he'll discuss the cinematography and lighting
and how the color scheme didn't match in one scene,
how different this film was compared to others from that director
and that no one appreciates good quality film anymore

he doesn't want to hurt you
but he'll do it anyway.
don't cry in front of him
because it will make him cry too.
he'll take you out for ice cream
and break the news there
that the truth was all along:
he never loved you.