He reminds me of the shadow between silences.
I want to separate writing from heartbreak but I don’t know how.
This brown body is not an explosion- it is light and honey.
Your heartbeat is a holy thing.
I want to be something to pray for but I don’t know how to be.
How do you mourn the loss of someone who was never yours to begin with?
And what am I but the smallest of footnotes in the universe’s everlasting memoir?
This country collects too many tongues, until our only language is silence.
I don’t know how to let you out without destroying us both.
Seek refuge in the space between my bones.
Somewhere inside my throat lives your ache.
I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.
I pocket grief and it beckons me like a lover.
My silhouette is an ocean, your lips a sailor.
There is a calmness in not knowing.
Every beauty mark, a country to roam. Every stretch mark, a river to cross.
I loved you in quiet because to hide is to pretend that it is okay.
Allow me to introduce myself, A warning and a welcoming all at once.
We are so much more than skin can hold.
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.