I am a child of my country’s turbulent past. I drink my ancestors’ blood from my father’s cup. I am possessed by a memory I have never lived.
I guess to believe in something, you must learn the definition of it.
I do not know the definition of love.
But I know the warm glow resonating within my ribcage in old love songs, one verse at a time, tingling my spine. And I know the blush on my cheeks and the tear in my eyes when you make me smile for a little too long. I know the way you finish my sentence and the widening of your eyes when I steal your thoughts straight from the neurons in your brain. Or the way my skin moves in crashing waves at your stroke, or the way my body craves yours at the end of everyday, or the way our lips are magnetic and when they collide it seems to never be enough. And I know the security, the self-love, self-worth, self-appreciation that began with you and now end within me.
And since my senses are all I have, I believe in everything glowing, blushing, crawling, aching, seeping, whispering, serenading, exploding within me at every magnificent sight of you.
I want to bury my face in your face,
the tall slender hill of your nose tucked into the empty slope next to mine breathing warm life slipping down my lips sweetening the tip of my tongue,
your soft lashes light and gentle brushing the mount of my cheeks like a painter’s song,
your eyes swimming in blue and green glowing on my skin and reading it like poetry you would never understand,
the richness of your flushing lips trembling in a breathless craving for a taste of the secrets of my flesh and bone.
It is unfair how much you can damage someone and still walk away with your life and self intact as if nothing has changed without ever having to acknowledge how they replay the careless words you spat at them like prayers at three in the morning and retrace your heavy grip around their throat with spite burning in your eyes, and how scared they are of never being able to love themselves and therefore anyone else again because of the worthlessness you had drilled into their bones, and on you will walk, whistling your victorious tune, with that smirk floating on your lips, believing yourself the king of the world.
I want a man with a boy’s smile.
I want a man whom I would catch, in the corner of my eyes, longing for me when he thinks I’m not looking.
I want a man who would trace each syllable of a million love songs he’s carefully selected for an empty night.
I want a man with sighs in his eyes that, as I breathe in, tug at my chest, until my skin explodes with an intense hunger.
I want a man who would put his life on hold two seconds at a time to give me his all.
I want a man who would make my whole existence tremble at a graze of his distracted fingertips.
I want a man who, with me, takes turns at cops and robbers, each always a step ahead of the other.
I want a man with a depth of whose heart I will never comprehend but lays there, always, dormant, waiting to trap me, as I trip and fall, between the gasps of his lust, begging for him to swallow me whole.
But I need a man.
I need a man with a secured sight.
I need a man who shuts himself closed with only me inside.
I need a man who knows that his entire being belongs to me.
I need a man, so lovely and kind, who paints our future with a single brush of his smile.
So I have to rip myself out of these feverish fits of fantasy, as
Frost knew it best:
"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep”
miles to go before I sleep.
when light broke into my room and
I slowly woke with a heavy head,
the sky was blue -
bright and clean
the wind was fresh
chasing weak clouds on their way -
there was no traces of fire
of thundering sparkles
that took over the sky the night before.
My dense heart thumped
my eyes cracked open
and I said a timid
with shadows of wine
lingering on my lips.
It was a new day
it was a new year
but it was just
another year -
my smile was still fragile
my fingers remained trembling
my heart still thirsty
my mind still stumbling, flickering, quivering
for something more
so intense that I would
drown, gasping, wrestling
that I was alive -
but it was just
Today is one of those days
where my head is sunny
and my chest glows
yellow and gold -
A stream of love-like shiver
flows through lines of my body
I never knew I had;
the tips of my fingers tingle
like they have a tune to dance to -
My eyes remain closed
but my vision is clear;
my head is foggy
yet I can feel the world -
Today is one of those days
where my mind, my heart, my guts, my fingers, my toes - I
am in love
with nothing in particular
and my existence grows large
with such clarity
and joy and pain and love -
Love, so heavy, so full
from every pore of my being
filling up the room
but with nowhere to go -
I trace needles creeping under my skin -
nails dragging, skipping, scraping
from my neck
marking the line of my back -
my ribs crackling at each other
pulling in, out, in, out, crushing
collapsing into a black hole
that is my chest
swallowing my air, my blood, my heart, my self in