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Sh May 2020
Blood is thicker than water.

I'm nine years old and my mother had sighed us both up for a dieting course.

At eighteen I still see how interchangeable fatness and ugliness are to her.

I still have to stop myself from thinking of skipping meals after I ate "too much".

Clinging to the fear of the slippery ***** that serves as my only guard.

I see it in my friends too,
comforted by their opposition for what my mother had embraced like gospal for the helpless fools.

Blood is thicker than water.

I like the hairs on my body.
The short and soft strands that cover my legs, blonde and black and all too

Removing them leaves my legs red and *****-*****- pickling for days but-

My sister laughs through a wrinkled nose,
My cousin tells stories, horrified, of women like me,
Mother says it's unhygienic and would not let me leave the house like this.

I haven't worn shorts in years.

But my friends' confident '*******' to everyone who isn't them,
who dares control their bodies and shame them into pain or hiding,

makes me feel like one day I might wear them again.

Blood is thicker than water,

I find it hard to talk to people.
The thought of discussing anything more than trivial matters makes my lunges heavy in my chest.

Talking to my parents- a heavy led filling what seem less and less like lungs with every passing second.

Talking to my friends- the heaviness doesn't always go away, but the weight doesn't get harder to bear.

I heard my mother tell a friend how her kids talk to her about everything.

A bitter laugh never tasted so much as the sea.

Blood is thicker than water,

Since I can remember myself, I never wanted kids.
Took me years so unveil why.

The dismissal cut deep when Mother assumed she knew me better than I do, a cruel arrogance for what she must only consider her property.
'You'll change your mind and give me grandchildren'

A payment for my life-
"Interest" she calls it.

Blood is thicker than water,

When I came out to you, dear parents, you once again ignored me

as if I hadn't tortured myself enough,

as if it hadn't taken me years trying to accept myself before you turned your back on me with cruel dismissal.

As if I don't still struggle.

All I have left is to fall back on my friends' support again,

being caught in their loving embrace without ever asking to.

They say you can't choose your family but-

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
Warning- references eating disorders.
This is slam poetry and thus sounds better when read out loud (or at least with a passionate inside voice 😂)
Andrew Dec 2019
There are birds that live outside my house.
There are actually quite a few,

Grouse and dove and Pheasant.
Birds that speak of me and you,

But none of their singing
Could be as quite as pleasant as you

With your offbeat tweet, and history papers past due.
Though I can attest to you being a pest,
I Love You.
Varshini Oct 2019
Something about these flashing lights bring me home
It’s not like I’ve never seen fairy lights before
But somehow with their multiple settings, and the different ways in which they illuminate my house, distract me in the best way and make themselves known

Brings me back to waking up at 4 in the morning
Brings me back to making special food that tastes sharp, sweet and bitter all at the same time
Brings me back to rolling around in my dad’s office chair, going from jumping into the chair and bouncing around to sitting in it, prim and proper, calling myself an adult at fourteen

It’s funny that you make families wherever you go
Even if my parents are half a world away, I have my own little family to enjoy Diwali with.
Sam Jan 2019
The trains running past,
the buses too slow to catch,
ever-shining street lights
and people's eyes no longer bright --
let's throw it all away,
if it'll all be taken from us anyway.

Let's call it home -
my breath, steady over your shoulder,
you shirt, damp from my tears,
a million hugs and compliments,
the ringing of laughter.

It's all going to fade away:
A house to an apartment to a dorm room,
desperately, hesitantly, found safe havens.
But this --

Let's call it people. Let's call it connection.
How about we keep it?
Hold it tight, keep it close - hold on, and don't let go.

Someday, when Google finally blackmails us,
there's going to be a dozen chats,
on half a dozen forms of social media.

And someday, when this is all history,
and the internet's long since collapsed -
they're going to trace postcard after postcard,
letter after letter.

When I go bankrupt, I'll blame post-stamps.
I'll blame living a few too many countries,
a few too many oceans, few too many continents far away,
to see you all in person.
I'll blame needing to write Love you, miss you,
because this is the girl who thought everyone was going to leave,
and now she doesn't want to give you any excuse to forget her, see.
And I'll still smile at every text message,
Still grin unabashedly at every piece of mail I get back.
Still be so, so freakin' happy, when I get to see you in person.

So let's call it friends, let's call it family.
Let's call this home.

— The End —