“i learn urgentlythe architecture of lossthen find you again.”

“how far have you walked for men who’ve never held your feet in their laps?how often have you bartered with bone, only to sell yourself short?why do you find the unavailable so alluring?where did it begin? what went wrong? and who made you feel so worthless?if they wanted you, wouldn’t they have chosen you?all this time, you were begging for love silently, thinking they couldn’t hear you, but they smelt it on you, you must have known that they could taste the desperate on your skin?and what about the others that would do anything for you, why did you make them love you until you could not stand it?how are you both of these women, both flighty and needful?where did you learn this, to want what does not want you?where did you learn this, to leave those that want to stay?”

“the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year i learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it. the year of hugging people i don’t know, because i want to know them. the year i made peace and love, right here.”

“you must wear it like she wears disappointment on her faceyou must hide the surprise of tasting other men on your lipsyour mother is a woman and women like her cannot be contained.you find the black tube inside her beauty case, where she keepsyour fathers old prison letters,you desperately want to look like herfilm star beauty, you hold your hand against your throatyour mother was most beautiful when sprawled out on the floorhalf naked and bleeding.you go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick,somewhere no one can find youyour teeth look brittle against the deep red slicknessyou smile like an infant, your mouth is a woundyou look nothing like your motheryou look everything like your mother.you call your ex boyfriend, sit on the toilet seat and listen tothe phone ring, when he picks up you say his name slowhe says i thought i told you to stop calling meyou lick your lips, you taste like years of being alone.”

“I’m not sad, but the boys who are looking for sad girls always find me. I’m not a girl anymore and I’m not sad anymore. You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn't he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole.”

“every mouth you’ve ever kissedwas just practiceall the bodies you’ve ever undressedand ploughed in towere preparing you for me.i don’t mind tasting them in the memory of your mouththey were a long hall waya door half opena single suit case still on the conveyor beltwas it a long journey?did it take you long to find me?you’re here now,welcome home.”

“you were like an ulcer on the inside of my cheek that my tongue could not stop touching.loving you was like watching a stranger clean a week old wound; i felt sick, but i wanted more.”