and I desire and I ruin

it feels like i have forgotten myself.

i do not wish to understand anything about me, and yet, i do. i do understand myself, i know it very well when somebody has an incorrect depiction of me because it feels like a violation not to disagree with it. i vomit myself again and again.

nobody would be able to understand the love that overflowed between me and mama. she used to sing for me whenever i asked her to. this one time, i wanted to learn this one naat and i would ask my mama to recite it to me on repeat until i finally learned it. i would sit on the floor, carefully wash each one of her toes while talking to her, then kiss her knees when i was done with it. we used to have dates on every Saturday, and we'd take turns to rant to each other about everything that has happened to us. even after the most terrible life, i asked her if she regrets anything, she told me that she doesn't; that she never would. we shared love in the pistachios we'd peel for each other, in the way we'd share coconut water with each other, in the way we'd share lassi with each other. my body immediately danced whenever it felt the singing voice of my mama. we used to exchange the meanest look whenever somebody said something we didn't like. our love lied in those last moments when she fell terribly sick, and i jokingly asked her to scratch my back because she was always asking me to scratch hers, — "you're always making me scratch your back, scratch mine now" — then sat in front of her. and she did. even with her trembling, weak hands, she scratched my back. i asked her to stop within five seconds, told her that i am not itchy anymore, and she said, "what? sit back down, don't lie to me, let me scratch your back," and i looked at her with my heart so heavy with love, i almost cried.