White, Yellow, and Brown
Different shapes, sizes, and textures
Curly, straight, and wavy
You look at your reflection and do not see it

You're brown
You’re slim, light, and skinny
Your body does not resemble what it means to be a woman in your culture

A Latina woman has curves
A Latina woman's skin glistens underneath the sun
She contains an inner glow that resembles the strength she holds.

A Latina women speaks fluent English and Spanish
The purr that rolls off her tongue when she rolls her “R’s”
Her accent is what blows men away
Her accent is seen as exotic and from another world
But yours is different

You look at your reflection and do not see it
There is no purr because you can't roll the “R’s” off your tongue
Your slight accent is what worries you
Afraid your accent is going to get you a stare instead of a wink.
Afraid to speak you stay quiet and become discrete

You look at your reflection and see
brown sugar that’s sweet and fine
Your skin contains different specks of color which makes you different
The sun captures the qualities that you contain within.

You look at your reflection and see
A woman that speaks the language of romance
The language that distinguishes you from the crowd
The language that brings you strength and courage
The accent you once feared would bring you shame is the same one you have come to love.

You look at your reflection and see
A woman that has grown internally to love herself for the way she is
you contain the inner glow that resembles the strength and knowledge you have attained.

The eclipse has finally passed the sun and your  time to shine has arrived.

White, Yellow, and Brown
Different shapes, sizes, and textures
Curly, straight, and wavy
You look at your reflection and see
A Latina woman.

Is it too selfish not only to matter, but to belong? Despite how guilty I feel, how much sin I’ve committed, my failures, my shortcomings. Is it so wrong to devote myself to myself, to find my own meaning, my own cause, my purpose, my drive, to look for my own happiness, my truths, to **** my desire so I wouldn’t feel that I’m missing out, to find something to fill my void, so my soul wouldn’t live out throughout my day wounded? Even if I seek in external at times? Is it so wrong to be poetic, to be romantic, to be thy. Even if I turn to people like Aleister Crowley, to be inspired not only to think rational, to be passionate. Is it wrong to read philosophy, reject the thought of being complete is in the search of becoming complete? For I’ve peered into myself I found only sadness in the despair I saw & I don’t like. No matter how dramatic this is written, it is my truth, my burden, my curse & it’ the price I’ve paid for originality for wanting only to be myself & I find hard to smile realizing what I could've been by playing it safe & been without to what’s internalized in me. I’m meaningful to you, but a paradox, because I’m without you. I’m only on the brink of your life. As long as I’m on this earth, in this life, I am, unable to & able to live, alone & with others. I weeping now, but you weep when I’ve gone.

4/19/2019

I’m too skinny to be mean,
So why do I walk with swag?
That’s not maturity, I’m so green.
They say, “Work out, you’re such a scrag.”

I should try to smile more,
A scowl doesn’t draw people.
But the outside reflects from the core,
So change is not that simple.

Jesus change my heart,
Fill me – no, overflow me!
I need all of you to start,
To erase this mood of gloomy.

I’d rather be a nice guy,
I wouldn’t have to worry.
My old image – it’s time to die.
My turn to forget my history.

I’m still worried about my image,
I thought I climbed over that!
This culture values the savage.
In Your face, they’ve spat.

I’d rather be a decent fellow,
Someone readily trusted.
I’m quiet, I don’t bellow,
This way I was made, but I’ve resisted.

I was raised to be a gentleman,
What does that mean?
Call me a madman,
Act like Christ, when not even seen.

I’m done with looking tough,
I want nothing to do with grim.
I’ll act in a way devoid of mischief,
Even if I look like a weak victim.

But going back to culture;
I don’t want to slip into the throng,
I won’t blend in and become a vulture,
Feeding off the weak, don’t make you strong.

“Speak softly and carry a big stick,”
An interesting concept.
People these days are all talk,
That they are wrong, they’d never accept.

Even when I’m hated,
By Christ, I will show humility.
It’s not that complicated,
An extension of His credibility.

i don't talk to people.
sometimes i smile,
and i know how to say hello,
but i don't talk to people.

i can read, though.
it was foreign to me
until middle school age,
but the runes on the pages of
the holy book, the look of
my mother's first language,
became words that i could
slowly untangle. and
i was proud of myself,

but that doesn't matter when
i don't talk to people.
my grandmother tiptoes in
conversation with me; her eyes
know no frustration but she
cannot expect a full reply.
my cousin laughs with my mother
and i can't help but wonder
if she wishes i’d laugh, too.
and i worry that the words
will refuse my american accent.
i worry i do not
eat enough spiced curry,
pray enough to the right gods,
or even act
indian enough.

i don't talk to people.
i’m not sure how.

Dear ex lover...

Our love was water
Refreshing but it left me needing more to survive
The words you spoke were intoxicating
I became easily addicted
Our relationship ended a year ago
I'm still thinking about you
I shouldn't have left
You loved me more than yourself
Showed tenderness and compassion
This letter was supposed to be an im thinking of you
Not that I still love you
I miss you
Do you miss me still?

Love
Your girl


no no...


Dear ex...

Why must you run through my mind
Dipping into the inner pools of my serendipity
Night fall brings no comfort
As I rest my eyes for a deep slumber
I'm still startled awake by remnants of a 3 am phone call
Waiting to see missed call displayed across a bright screen
And a voice mail engaging in another pointless fight you created
Please leave a message after the....
Baby wake up
You're supposed to answer
I'll be waiting for you to come over
I need to find sweet release
Give me what I need
Or else there'll be hell to pay
My memories of you have a few genuinely blissful moments
But those are over shadowed by gruesome visuals and agony
I stuck through everything you did
So I wouldn't have to hear how worthless i was
And that I wouldn't find better than you
I stuck around hoping that I could admire the roses wrapped in a walmart bag
only to realize it would only be one time I received them
because you had to
and they were the result of a heartfelt apology
that would cut deeper than the thorns
I held too tightly
crying over the hatred I felt for you
as blood darker than the red roses trickled down my ivory skin
I hate you
but I will always hate myself more


With regards
Your ex


no no....


Dear abuser....
This will be the final draft of the several letters I ripped up in the trash
You don't deserve it
But you kept invading my peace
So here's what you wanted
Here's your ******* closure


I loved you
Before you turned into the demon you swore you never would
Because a man that calls himself a Christian would never do what you did to me right?
Stories were told of girls you damaged
Why was I so naive to believe they were lies
It was that cunning smile and sugar coated words
Making a man that could do no wrong in public
But a monster behind closed doors
Proving the stories weren't lies

You showed me love wasn't one found in movies
It was never going to be a fairytale I longed for
No
Love was shown when my clothes were off and I was submissive
Still knowing the touch of your coarse hands
Running across my skin when a slight breeze hits the air
I've scrubbed my skin raw with hopes I wouldn't but to no prevail
Love was holes punched in the dry wall above my head
Love was loving what my body over my mind had to offer
You told me love was ***
But *** never meant love
Love wouldn't leave me shaking alone in your bed
Hoping the door didn't fly open in rage
That i forgot to say good morning
Scared whether the day would bring a fake happiness
Or
Knowing our true love was another fist to the gut
With tears flowing out of mascara blackened eyes
As you took what you wanted
Again
Again
Again
Pleading intensified your lust
Tears got you off
My pain was only valid when it was able to make you gleam
Your true smile was only shown with my back pressed against a hard box spring
I love you was only whispered when you were finished
But don't get me wrong that was love....

Sincerely
Shelby

Because I am with myself all the time. Everything I do is needless effort, your eyes, your eyes, your eyes, it turns away like running feet in the mist, seeing God for the first time, I cannot see in your soul, do not enter mine, you may or may-not find what you want.

Head spinning
Heart aching
Torn between worlds
Like cloth being ripped apart

One of tradition
Speaking my native tongue
Wearing my culture
A dress adorned
With the tales of nameless ancestors
Lost to history

One of modernity
Pursuing the passions
That burn like a blazing sun in me
Eyes sharp, voice echoing

Trying to find day and night
In search of me

Sometimes I wonder
What life would've been like
Had I stayed.
Concentrate hard enough
And I can relive
Those nostalgic memories
All over again.

Boys, playing cricket
As the blazing sun glared down.
People streaming out of
Mosques, temples, churches
Like the swarms of mosquitoes
That come out at dusk.
The mouth watering scents
Of sweet, juicy mangos
And savory roasted peanuts
Mingling with deafening horns
Of rickshaws on the roads.
Lying under the ceiling fan
On straw mats the color of
Fiery sunsets and
Woven gold
Reading for hours on end
About great queens
Powerful Kings, fierce warriors

Why did I leave?
Did I make a mistake?
Should I be in this country
That doesn't want me for me?
For my skin tone,
My religion, my race?
They boast of equality
and freedom
But it doesn't deliver anymore.
Accused of not
Belonging, not assimilating.
All because I'm proud.
Proud of my other half,
My homeland, my heritage.

But then I look forward.
What do I see?
My father,
Treating his patients
With the compassion
Of a parent to his own child
Despite the hateful words
That stab, pierce
Like scorching knives.
"You're stealing our jobs!"
"You're not a real American!"
My mother,
Trying to rebuild a new life
Out of the ashes she brought
From our old home,
Ashes that once resembled
The burning fire
Of a luxurious life
Where she had everything.
They had sacrificed
A life where
They were treated like royalty.
An only son of
respected professors.
A daughter of a well known
Senior doctor,
The best of the best.
And for what?
Me.
ME.

So when I look forward,
I'm reminded of one more thing.
The opportunities
That lie in front of me.
A vast ocean of them,
Rippling with possibilities
Of how I could
Make my mark
Make a difference
Change the world.
And that's why I'm here,
So land of the free,
Home of the brave,
You may not be perfect
But I will forever be grateful
For what you've given me.