They deserve to laugh and sit on the floor and coo over babies.
They deserve to talk in a language I don’t understand.
They deserve to look at each other with love.
They deserve to be more than just parents.
They deserve to be people
because they are more than just a vessel for life.
They are life itself.
Watching
the flat white clouds
melt onto the field. The
subdued earth suffocates—my breath
quickens.
At parties I sit quiet and calculate my words
I avoid the eyes of guys and stare at my phone.
After all that hiding,
dissatisfaction feels like heartburn,
crying over a simple email
the lasts build a lump in my throat
last time beaming onstage
signing yearbooks
wearing a stiff blue skirt
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