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The way woman look at woman
like art
she glares first at her eyes
then at her nose
and the crinkles of her smile
the curves of her body
like an icy statue to be worshipped

you would never know
by the way she looks at her
how her thoughts
can lead her so astray.
Like art, that evokes a million emotions.
My mother loved fish cheeks
but it sits in my bowl every night
she smiles
I shove it down like a hungry wolf
Fish cheeks is simple; it needs no words.

Then I grew up
and brought friends over
"like Amy Tan's story!" They said
laughing at the fish cheeks
as my mother shrunk.

Fish cheeks are a delicate meat
its gentle, its warm, its self-explanatory.
It sits in my bowl, under the loving gaze of my mother.
If that is funny
then I dont understand the humor.
When the sun hits your hair
I see how it makes heads turn
like little rays of sunshine
dancing in your golden blonde hair
I sit at night
staring at the moon
and im not even the night sky
im your shadow
waiting to be picked second
because everyone wants the Sun
they were vitamin gummies before
my mother would be so proud
it turned into something ugly
and I even used to laugh
but now I stare blankly at a wall
feeling nothing and everything all at once
luckily tho
I can't think straight.
Who knows what ill think if im sober?
The Universe smiled when you were born
She told the Whales of a gentle child
who was born to make the world better
she sang to the birds
of a soul so kind and funny
she almost wish she could take credit in creating you

Now you sit in a cubicle
working your dreams away for other people's luxury.
The walls felt caved in, but it never crushes you
You can't work if you are dead.
the ceiling of a blinding white light
Small talks that leave you emptier than before

But you did not disappoint The Universe
She understands
She may sign and look away
but in the smallest kindest of your actions
she writes a new fate for you
a path sealed by the cosmos.
The sea will wash away your sins
so don't be afraid to live
for when the creator comes
they will show kindness
that is the only type of creator you should worship anyways.

and if there is no creator
you will arrive to the ocean with nothing to offer
and the sea can wash away nothing else but you.
some mornings feel like a dream
my foot light, the sun singing
the clouds calling my name

then some mornings
the blanket calls me a *******
and grabs me on

these mornings come more often now
the the sun stopped singing for a long time
it gave up on me

if I feel like nothing, contribute nothing, look like nothing
how can I believe anything else.
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