Internal screams
"Look in the mirror and see how beautiful you are," you said.
Liar.
You told me men would wage wars for me, and cities would crumble at my feet.
You lied.
I called you the next night after you left to meet a friend for a drink. You hugged me and said, "I'll see you later."
Later meant after you spend the night with someone else.
Stop lying to me.
You said I shouldn't be angry because it meant nothing, just some fun.
There is no separation here.
If she means nothing, neither do I.
I hate you. I hate me too.
Who am I to you? Just another object, willingly at your disposal.
I am lying to myself.
I am no soul, no heart, no spirit. I'm the toy you loved as a child, boxed away and forgotten after the battery died.
I am disposable.
The only man to start a war was you, putting me at war with myself.
And I was the only soldier to die on the battlefield.
-Written after a heartbreak, 8 years ago.
Commitment.
He married her, but never loved her.
Control.
He loved the power to shame her, mind and body.
Prayer.
He loved the religion that committed her to him like a god.
Addiction.
He loved drugs and alcohol.
Noise.
He loved to scream at her.
Names.
Fat and fucking stupid.
Truth.
The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
Destruction.
He burned the house down and left her for another woman. She died poor. A single woman, not by choice.
Promises.
I swore to her that I would live with all the choices she never had, and die with a fire burning inside me, a fire only I could create.
-Flames
My relationship with water reminds me of you.
Lukewarm.
Always slipping through the cracks of my fingers.
Destroying me is your fetish.
You never admit it.
Remember that movie scene with the couple kissing in a Jacuzzi?
Remember when I tried to recreate the scene with you, but your fingers clenched around my throat.
You tried to drown me instead.
The water was too hot and I died inside.
My soul’s river is dried up.
No tears will fall for you.
I dried them with a blood red towel after crying in the shower.
My tears smell like rage.
I never hang the towel to dry.
This towel adorns my body like a dress.
Will you notice me?
You never look up.
I start an argument, fighting for your attention.
You’re done with me.
But you’re not.
This is your favorite part of our movie.
When the sun rises, you'll be at my door.
-Wet
Dear Johnny,
Will you ever see me as a dignified woman?
When can I meet your mother?
Word on the street is that you don't love my love for the unloved,
those seeking salvation in a world with limited freedoms.
You despise queens who redefine kingdoms.
You love women so much. Why can't you love their humanity?
Why can't you love a woman who won't compromise her identity?
I don't know why I need your love, always seeking your approval of me.
You awaken my internalized misogyny.
Johnny, together, we're so toxic.
Come drink political poison with me.
The juice is sweetened with lies, soured by oligarchy.
The ceremonial goblet awaits us.
I’m housed in the legacy of you. My Johnny.
-My First Love
America tolerated me, but hated my name.
He brought me here then pushed me away.
Did you know James Baldwin lived in France?
Maybe you should meet me in Paris. You, heir to the throne. Me, the heiress.
I want to tiptoe on tall buildings and dance like a child, unbraiding my hair letting my curls go wild.
Astonished by The Louvre masterpieces as your hand grazes mine.
Underground city of Naours, the Catacombs, city lights of lime.
No stop signs on the road... but so much fashion.
Floating down rivers... navigated by a violin.
Eating cassoulet paired with Marcillac. The red wine you love from Mansois.
Pouvez-vous m'aider? I need all the help I can get.
Je parle un peu français?
Yes, I speak a little French.
Let's go to Paris and never go home.
I never had a home to begin with.
So says the patriarchs and the presidents.
-Foreign
