“I pocket grief and it beckons me like a lover.”

I always wanted to be more than my brown skin, when you told me I was sweet like cinnamon.

If you wish to read the story of my people look no further than my body.

I am only beautiful when my legs are open and I have forgotten my mother tongue to make room for yours.

Love transcends oceans and I love you in every country we are both made of.

I love you the way rain falls on a sunny day- a kind of marvelous sadness.

I love you like I barely had a land to call my own.

I am tired of living in a world, where I belong deeply, to anyone but myself.

She has learned so much from dying only to be born again.

I remember when I was the only sin you liked to kiss.

I loved each and every one of your faces.

Tear me open and rest inside me.

Here I am, a mosaic of becomings.

I am a child of borderlines and we are two lands, carved differently.

For once I want to be something that lasts.

I’m sorry only I can both drown you and be the summer that dries it away.

This foundation can only take the beating of one heart.

Heaven have mercy on us all – Presbyterians and Pagans alike – for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.

Be of good cheer, for sadness cannot heal the national wounds.

There is an energy which springs from sickness and debility: it has a more powerful effect than the real, but, sadly, expires in an even greater infirmity.

Black is not sad. Black is poetic.

If only the journey back could bring me to you.

Night is a song, moon and sad people can sing along.

Even in sadness you are a symptom of love.

I love you the way rain falls on a sunny day- a kind of marvelous sadness.