as I lie in bed
awake at 3 am
I try to craft something beautiful
as to not waste this sadness
Read Moreas I lie in bed
awake at 3 am
I try to craft something beautiful
as to not waste this sadness
Read Morein hushed girlhood, i feared ghosts and falling —
now, i fly, dance, sing; i fear nothing but what waits in
the blackened backstage wing — your widegrinninglove,
those round clown cheeks, and it seems we meet again.
Read MoreFor they used to grip the edges of the scorching bowls of soup,
For they used to knead the dough and imitate Jamie Oliver,
Sprinkling herbs and thymes over a Tesco-like pizza.
Read MoreI snuck the two in red wax,
tilting to the ether,
so slim.
Splintered wood stands stuck,
yet still santal, still sweet.
Read MoreWhen I was first told
my voice has an “international twinge”,
I felt a deep pang of sadness,
unspoken shame.
The whiplash of an unintended insult
staining my cheeks childish.
The word “outsider” hidden in the subtext,
another reminder: “you don’t belong here”.
Read MoreIt’s 4am again,
I wish my mind would rest.
My worries replayed, amplified, on repeat,
our brains remember things, you see.
Pausing and replaying my worst days,
a highlight reel of mistakes I’ve made.
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