I remember the days of raisin boxes and paperbacks,
when it felt like the worst thing in the world to be climbing barefoot up a mound of dirt in the rain because you wanted a friend.
I couldn’t watch movies, talk about cigarettes, or listen to operas,
but I was all right when I saw my mother pouring out my father’s bottles into the bushes.
I looked at the round tummy in the mirror and wondered if it was okay.
It wasn’t. I was eleven years old when I learned how to **** it in.

-

The first came in middle school. I had a dream that I kissed a boy while on an exercise machine.
It was real life when he took my hand in the backseat of his mother’s SUV. I closed my bedroom door and danced.
I still think of him when I hear that stupid song.

The second time, I was fourteen. I met a different boy who peeled away my skin as if he were unwrapping a Christmas present.
And the present? Just another pair of socks. Throw them in the drawer with the others. Shut it tight.
I’m still missing a lot of skin.

And then, there is you.
You know the story. Five, four, three, two, one, happy new year. I kissed you.
Remember when you noticed my wrists? Remember when you didn’t believe my excuses? Remember afterwards, when you pretended to forget all about it because you were scared, scared of the kinds of girls who hid secrets under their sleeves?
I went to all of your basketball games. I hate basketball. We watched movies that you projected onto your basement wall. Your attempts to disguise your impatience as admiration were poorly executed.
Maybe our first kiss shouldn’t have occurred in a count-down. It made everything else that happened feel that much more inevitable.

-

I take stock of myself. Three hearts, like an octopus, and too much blood. I am saving it, I am saving it for the person who offers me something other than the dusty space under the bed.
I never want to be like my mother, and there is a certain kind of power in this. The power of - of what, turning inward?
I am learning. I am learning to stop looking behind me in fear of pursuit. Let them come and let them drape me in meaningless velvet. I will not be deterred.
Look for me, up in the constellations. I am a passing comet; it’s impossible to predict if I am destined for destruction or for greatness.

I’ll wait at the sunset for the sound of your voice.

I should have realized
from all of the half-filled
coffee cups that
you’d leave everything
unfinished.

I just wanted to be the sunlight
that woke you up in the morning,
the warmth you wouldn’t mind
slipping through the curtains.
But I suppose it’s enough
for me to be
the memory
you hope to forget.

The Pearl of the Orient is the name
Filled with beauty untamed
With waters so clear it purifies the mind
And sand so white it brighten up the night

With so much natural beauty to behold
From the biggest of clams
to the smallest of toads
It is shrouded by blessings untold

But nothing in this world is crystal clear
So is my country
With thousands of people online
But millions have nowhere to sleep by this time
What could go wrong ?

All are country wanted was a hero who loved us
But all we get is a celebrity the runs for congress
Or a family that made politics its business
What could go wrong?

Now we have roads that crumble
Bridges that can't hold up a people
Houses made of plastic or things unknown
All the public schools filled with the local mayors initials
And streets that you dare walk when you are alone

But a country that's been conquered several times should know
We are free from the Americans hold
The Spanish control
And the Japanese grasps
But why does it act like it is bounded ?

We look down upon ourselves
Serving when we are already free
Copying concepts when we can be making
And with all of this we live with a culture that should be unknown

We are free
We are a people
We are warriors ready to fight
Yet we keep peace when there should be peace

We maybe be looked down upon
But we stand
Changing the world
Hand in hand

So let us brake the chains the holds our freedom
Know what our constitution means
Because we won't be controlled no more

Blessings await this holy nation
As power comes down to lift this creation
Destroying all words of condemnation
Leading the corrupt to accusation

We are rising

One day you might look back,
and you might not remember
how I cracked open
my already splintered ribcage
to give you whatever I had
left inside.
You might not remember
how stars went dim
when we walked in empty streets.
You might not remember
silences that felt too full,
or nights that felt too short.
But please,
please remember;
at least I tried.