Deep fried Caucasians,
on the timeline,
eyelash extensions,
padded like a drag queen,
but still with a skinny nose,
whip straight hair,
rapping THAT word,
with Nicki,
like they have the right.
Dolezel’s daughters,
children of the sun,
or so they say,
faking freckles,
golden brown,
when the sun hasn’t given them the time of day,
all winter.
Why are you so obsessed with us?
A wish.
Wistful and unexpected,
welcome at the right time,
reaching out to reign me in,
so I am safe again.
Sincerely,
some kind of happiness,
hidden away,
until it rains,
and I need to be warm and dry,
a new life,
jumping off the edge,
into unknown depths.
Life is stubborn,
sweet,
sometimes.
Life is such an elusive lover,
no matter how many times
I try to be faithful.
I inherit confidence,
and influence,
from the women I have been,
on days where I was wistful,
unexpected and untroubled.
My heart is heavy,
harmed,
hazardous,
but I feel the future could be kind.
I want the future to be kind.
I want my wishes to be mine.
I made a clean start,
breaking away,
walking through the fire,
I’d waited to light.
I am at home,
with who I become
when I get carried away.
Take me away.
Show me where else my life could go.
I have a forest in my dreams,
where we escape,
and I am excitable,
like a little child,
because life is beginning again,
and I feel alive again,
and I am healing once again,
breathing your ambitions for me,
into my skin.
Maybe you’re just another mistake,
or maybe you’ve always been my path,
and I was just lost before.
Shed not one tear.
I am only a memory,
that you revisit,
reminiscing,
until you see me again,
but I ask you not to cry,
if this is the last time.
So it may be,
that tomorrow is a lovely day,
like Vera promised.
I tried not to promise,
too much of myself,
but in the end,
I was helpless to your hunger.
Wilting and then rising again,
sick but sweet symbiosis,
that makes your friends roll their eyes,
and your mum say,
that maybe you’re moving too fast.
Shed not one tear.
I am not ready, to see you miss me.
I am not ready to see, how my vanishing acts,
vandalise you.
Tomorrow used to be this little idea,
that I thought wasn’t real,
in the way some people look at climate change and think,
“nah”
So it may be,
that I am bound to you.
I share with you,
everything, including,
my disruptive dramatics,
screaming into pillows,
then melting into your lap.
You can’t seem to get enough,
and I used to worry,
that you will always follow me,
but now,
I worry that you won’t.
I danced in ashes,
reborn, renewed, refocused.
I belong to me.
