“How does one love a person who is not a person but a multitude?”

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see a poem.

I have lived too many lives to be only one thing, and instead of attempting to mesh them into a form of a human being, I have decided to love every jagged edge of mine.

I don’t like how your embrace feels like comfort till the knife thrust.

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.

It’s amazing how lovely common things become, if one only knows how to look at them.

Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.

Laugh often, the universe always falls in love with a little bit of madness.

Loving you became just a different way to hate myself.

Keep good company, read good books, love good things and cultivate soul and body as faithfully as you can.

One day all those wounds will open up again. But this time you’ll bleed love.

I was born to chase peace and love wild things. I was born a beautiful bohemian paradox.

Love is knowing that she is delicate and not breaking her still.