Find You

perhaps here
you and i
will still be
where
we were

swinging in
during the
afternoon lull,
over teas
brailleing
poetry into queer shapes

perhaps here
i never have to worry
about losing you

i wonder

i often find myself wondering if you found this blog and hoping you haven't found it, because i don't write for you to discover me here. i write because for some reason, my writing has been dedicated to you completely, last couple of years and i can't seem to find a way to pull myself away from it. maybe it's gradual. maybe it will be a slow process, just like the way i now feel like am beginning to form a deep connection with B. over hours of discussing politics and work, i'm getting addicted to talking to him. it feels like we must be very good friends if we can behave like that- just talk. but i do know that some day we will behave besides friendship. maybe we will start talking love some day. i wonder how i will feel about you then. will i feel guilty loving you and still being with him? will i feel like a drama queen, an opportunist and every name else you call me? i wonder what i have become to you now. i wonder if you ever wonder why i stopped writing poetry.

sagging breasts

i looked yesterday, at the woman in the mirror, her breasts just beginning to sag. they looked so different from the high, full breasts i remember from even a year ago. it has kind of depressed me as the sight immediately made me think of new cup sizes.
but G says a woman should feel good about her body regarless of what it looks like and with or without a man. but am still wondering what you would think of this body you've never seen.

Finally, I've been kissed

once again in my dreams,

i decided it was alright

to taste your lips

as you press me

against the kitchen tiles

while the rest of the world slept, unawares.

and so you came back to me last night, i imagined, from a place called lindaloma, a name that's always sounded like something you made up in your head to give your existence, existence. the entire floor was alseep and you led me to the kitchen, where just a slice of light reflected on the white tiles and pressed me against them, kissing me into a pain i have known in all our conversations but never really been able to express to you. i don't know what your kisses would taste like. i will never know. but in my dream last night, i knew that mouth was yours. and although i woke up with a holey stomach, i felt it was your way of forgiving me for being the whore i am inside, while i pretend to be a nun outside of me. i like to believe, you sealed what love we had in that kiss, even if it was only make believe.

i'm redeemed, even as the feel of the kiss makes my eyes run.

Rumi?

there was Rumi who stuck a chord in me. and there was you who did the same. something about stirring people's souls is so individual and queer that it chokes me if i think too much of it. Rumi, you, i.

i wish you thought of me as me, without poetry, without anything. i wish you loved me with nothing, for nothing. but how may i ask you to love with nothing, when you never loved in the first place?

Hollow

how can you make me fall apart
and break my fall with loving lies...
how can you treat me like a child?
and like a child i yearn for you...
As I listen to Katie Melua singing, you become a slab of silence nestling in my cavity, melting gracefully, spreading through my mouth and sliding down my throat into my guts, knocking me hollow.

lies

go ahead and scar me again. tell me you love me and i'll believe you even if you never meant it.