seen from Austria
seen from Japan
seen from Japan
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from France
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Australia
seen from China
generational trauma
I'm sick, Mama, and you are too.
You gave to me what they gave to you.
Grandma says 'time heals all wounds' and I think so too
but Mama,
you break my heart everyday
that the Sun comes up and you haven't changed.
Your indifference and my pain
appear in every chapter,
always together, written on the same page.
Sort of how I thought
you and I'd be someday.
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I looked at a picture of my dad last night and for the first time, I didn’t recognize his features. I mean, I was trying to see him as a stranger might, but I took it too far. It made me cry in confusion and what confused me more
was I braced myself for the swell of grief to take me out to the deep but she never came. So what does that say about me? Did I graduate from Grief? To miss him became my everything. It’s low-key kind of embarrassing. It’s so one-sided. It’s so pathetic. Maybe I’ve moved on from it? If so, what does that say about me? You wanna know what I think? I probably looked at his face and blinked one too many times. You know like when you say a word too much and it breaks apart in real time. It went from matter to dust. I bet that’s all it was. And if not, then my blinks were like a riptide that kept the swell at bay and the absence of her weight is what I miss tonight.
A note on the plane from me to my dead dad
When a mother leaves her daughter
Does she give the world permission?
To leave her just as she did?
Because when she left
Others did too
And then he did
And then they did too
And whenever I think about asking them
why it is they left,
I always end up seeing her in my head
I always end up asking her the question instead
I can do better
This isn’t my best
But I am doing my best
Does that make sense?
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Are all the stars in line
to get to the moon?
Am I in the right one?
The one that leads to you
I know you think
that I’m not enough
but I know that I can be.
If only you would pick me up,
I could be your bottle of whiskey.
I know you think
that I’m too much,
but like your cup, I’m empty.
I don’t mean to make a fuss
I just,
wish I was your whiskey.
Because if I was
you would drown in love.
Here, take my hand
so you don’t go missing.
Left then right
until we’re past small-talk,
hand-in-hand with
wishful thinking.
If only you could open up
like you do
your bottle of whiskey.
