#firesforlove

the year i got married

the year i decided to let go of guilt and be unconditionally true to me

the year i feel my slumber drift away, as i try to awake from dismissing me

1 year anniversary of my FIL's passing

number 33 around the sun

the year where i had cancer and understood motherhood will not be for me

the year we bought two christmas trees because who says you can't have two tiny trees rather than 1

2025 is the year we all happily say goodbye to

it brought growth, sadness, contentment, and inner peace.

take a train,

take a bus down to an empty town,

take a breath in icy waters,

take you by the hand and fill my jeans of your warmth,

of the grass below us, 

of the rain falling on us while we kiss,

and when we've grown old,

soak them in water in the tub,

let the roads trapped in the denim collapse,

dissolve all in unison,

and let me paint a map of my life with you next to me,

use the wrinkles on our hands like the distance measuring tool 

on the corner of every old town map,

to guide my fingers sucking the particles of dirt clinging to us

pagan sporadically creed outlaw embraced ruins automaton reality eye rendered

Your words made me see  there is more to spiritualism, more to the god that keeps gaining followers even when he's gone, a John Lennon,  and more to you, a pagan forcing my empty calendar nights to sporadically become longing desire for you. Let me make things simpler, my creed goes as follows: 1.Do as you are not told. 2.Feel as if you are not to hold any regret, erase that word: "regret". 3.Run #1 through your mouth till it becomes instilled day in, day out, like saliva a permanent tenant to the house your mouth roofs. 4.Become an outlaw to your own flawed, society-crippled idea of what a woman your age should be; able (but what does that mean) to maintain (my mind is always indecisive) a job (is a job is a job until you fall in love with it, or you break loose all your hinges and into the rabbit hole)

The way your body pumps muscle in,

rapid growth within, a mere mirror of your childhood

a simple click to make you scream,

make your skin turn literally green, bright.

Like the swollen cheek your mom fell with,

tell me,

wouldn’t you have wished to be this big,

and violent, and able,

when she took the blows in?

My father always argues with my mother,

sometimes it’s money,

sometimes it’s the not knowing when to not be kind.

To strangers,

to family,

to the dependent ones.

I remember that time,

my brothers and I sat in the living room,

quiet and tense,

like we were hunting, no sudden movements.

She was having an affair, long distance but nonetheless,

She knew what she was doing, and knew to hide it well,

like how my dog killed 10 cats once and I cried,

and hid it, hid them.

He lurked, my dad, lurked through her dreams,

went as far as to put recording devices in the pantry,

and she fell in the trap,

rat’s tail and all.

He tried talking,

tried coping with the fact that the truth was,

digesting the truth of a love now fading

could have faded since before the marriage,

could have choked them both all at once and they said nothing,

and so he fell antsy,

fell hungry with anger,

with a need to spill his unspoken words out on the wooden floor,

But his hunger grew exponentially,

his hands grew like stone, heavy,

and they grew…. like the hulk.

Like you!

And I wished that part of his DNA, like yours,

would have kicked in as well inside me,

and have me become a furious giant for her protection,

to rip away my timid skin and blow punches

at her rescue.

I wish we had a part of you inside us sometimes,

wish it were a trait I could embrace and disengage,

to control when stones come flying,

and the bruises turn a dirty gold.

And I guess you’d try telling me

there’s other ways,

other reasons why you wish it wouldn’t stick to you like glue,

like a limb,

but when you watch someone flinch,

and hold their breath,

tears bloating with panic,