Apr 20

Early Afternoon

I.
You stole all of the blankets.
I'm not mad,
just a little cold.
But you look too cute to steal them back.
I'll wait,
it's okay.

II.
I fell back asleep.
You woke me up with a gentle kiss on my nose.
Of course I smiled and laughed,
how could I not?

III.
"You're beautiful."
you whisper.
I can't help but smile
and curl closer to your chest.

IV.
Your pajama bottoms are soft.
I don't want to get out of bed.
You go to climb out,
but I pull you back
and ask to stay a little longer.
You tucked us both in.

V.
It's warm and fuzzy,
and everything feels
like it's bathed in sunshine,
and I can't help
but press a smile
to your cheek
and close my eyes.
This feels right.
Mar 12

Tear Soaked

You called me,
asked me over the phone.
I could hear the tears
rattling the words in your throat.
It's like you choked on the weight.

"Hi.
I just wanted to say I miss you.
We haven't talked in awhile."

There's silence.

"Did you forget me?"

I didn't know how to respond.
I didn't forget you.
You've just changed.
Warped yourself
into something you promised
to never be.
Told me that you'd stay sunshiney
and warm,
but I look at you,
and I see nothing but shadows
and thick smoke.

There's a reeking stench
in that shapeless form of yours,
and I can't help but gag on that horrible cloud.

I'm not saying I'm right
by turning my back,
but I'm not here
to play the hero.

Did you forget yourself?
Feb 28

For My Parents Half A World Away

Alternate Title: I Don't Know You But I Love You Just the Same

I'm taking a DNA test.
Not purely for a race breakdown,
not just for the health analysis,
and not those other things.
We know I'm Chinese,
most likely with pepperings of
Mongolian, Japanese, Korean,
and other broadly East Asian countries.
I've been healthy until now,
and while the knowledge is nice,
I'm not doing it for this.

I'm trying to find my birth parents.
I don't owe them anything,
nor do they owe me anything.
It's hypocritical of me
to say that blood relations don't define family,
because although my family right now
is a beautiful one,
I still feel a connection
to those that gave me life.

I find it hard to villify
and to sympathize,
but I do just want them to know
that their baby girl is alive,
well,
and okay.
I want them to know
that their baby girl
Feb 15

Bloody Valentine: After Parkland

Have we forgotten the boiling rage?
The miserable aches and sobs
and the molten tears of fury?

I spent this February the 14th smiling,
love in my eyes,
and warm hand in mine.
It felt selfish,
that I had the privilege to forget
and to stand tall
when so many families had their heads bowed
and bore bullet wounds in their heart.

We as a nation have forgotten
the red blood shed
on a celebrating love,
but forgot
that it was the anniversary of
families shattered
and a saint
beaten.
 
Feb 08

A Family That I Chose

I stood and stared at the back of my poster,
every bit of white space
plastered in messily but lovingly
written notes
in a rainbow of colors,
bright and prominent.

They told us to write notes to each other
on the back of our promotional show poster.
I never knew what to write for people,
so I wrote of memories
and how I see them in my life,
and how thankful I am for them
and the love I have in my heart for them.

More often than not,
I complimented others
on traits I saw myself lacking.
I adored everyone's positivity,
their humor,
their honesty
and just how unapologetically themselves they were.

I spent so long of my life,
bending over backwards
just to please others,
manipulating my body and mind
as if it was clay in my hands.
I could never make people laugh,
and I was a black hole of energy.

"You're so free-spirited"
Jan 23

Evolution

I don't know when it happened,
but I grew tired of tasting bitter.
I despised that I tasted
as burning rubber smelt,
putrid
and pungent,
the acidic smokiness
and bitter toxicity.
I grew past that.

I grew kinder,
softer,
and I'm happy with that.
I don't feel the need to defend myself
like a crazed, feral animal.
I'm content with me.

It's not that it was conscious,
but I'm glad it happened.
I smile more
and laugh
with my mouth uncovered,
and I'm unafraid
of existing in these spaces I occupy,
and I feel happier and lighter
with every step
as I walk.

And I just want those around me
to feel that same yellow light
that I bathed myself in,
and I want this
to be love
and happiness
and I want everyone
to taste victory
as I have.
Jan 02

Priority

I have spent too long
mending people who come to me
teary eyed
and raw knees.
They extend me bloody palms with
half moon slivers of iron embedded in the flesh.
Around their wrists are heavy salt soaked sleeves,
eyes bloodshot
and nose running.

My mother raised me
to care and to love
without hesitation,
and as much as I thank her for my heart,
I curse this heart
for collapsing with every tear
and for leaping at every "please".

I wore this heart out
until its rhythm was droned whole notes,
sluggish and heavy,
and ever so slightly off tempo.
My skin drained of color
and veins drained of blood
as I watched corpse upon corpse's cheeks
grow ruddy once more
only for them to walk off smiling.

I never wanted a thanks.
Nor did I get them.
And that was fine,
until I could feel my own body
begging for the life
Dec 25

Empty Hands

I.
You sit beside me in english.
I don't know when
or why we started talking,
but we did.
Something about you seemed,
untouchable,
like I could reach out to feel
your fluffy curls
and then you wouldn't be there,
that it would be fingers
grabbing hopelessly at mist.
And that's what I loved.

II.
We talk constantly.
The teacher hates it.
She threatens to separate us,
and I can see your face growing red
as she openly lectures us on the disrespect,
and yes I felt bad,
but it meant talking to you.

III.
I curl into your solid chest,
my spine pressed tightly
against wiry muscle.
I can feel your arms wrap around me.
This is the warmest
and the safest I've ever felt.
Is this love?

IV.
We talk less.
I made you a Christmas present.
You cram the paper
into your backpack,
shrug,
and walk away.
Dec 11

Petrichor

I never really liked cologne.
Perfumes are included.
Any strong scents really.
Maybe it was the allergies
or the fact that the allergies made it
so I couldn't breathe through my nose.
Maybe I was allergic to it all
and that's why my eyes watered
and I never liked how I choked on its clouds.

I like wafting scents.
Like my mother's fresh baked cookies,
or the lilacs at school.
Freshly mowed grass,
but I'm allergic to that too
and "scentless" shampoo.
They're not as overpowering,
and there's something more natural,
something more comfortable and familiar,
and I find myself getting back to those scents.

I've always loved the smell of rain.
The wet asphalt,
the crisp chlorophyll scents.
Petrichor.
I always liked that word.
It's why I liked the grey skies
and the looming clouds
because maybe the rain would come again
Dec 11

To Women

Women are a wonderfully fantastic force.
We know the feeling of fear in the night,
that familiar heart pound
and how drums cry out in our eardrums
when the street is dark
and our heels are high.
But that's why we travel in packs,
so the keys don't lace between our fingers
and we don't cut our knuckles on the teeth.

We bite our cheeks
and our tongues
and draw blood
as we stay calm and silent,
because it's the quiet that is dangerous
and the most ominous.

We scream when we feel the need,
voices molten and biting,
breath like acid
and words like knives.
It's a blend of sensations,
stabbing and pulling
and disgustingly cold
that it burns up
from the inside out,
we let the anger consume us if need be,
because we are the titans that roam the earth.

We are there for each other,
arms outstretched
and wide,
inviting,

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