naivenan
i leaned
back on
the dune
and
breathed in
the hot air
while looking
for the
oasis.
my feet
were covered
in blisters
from walking
one hundred
days
and nights
searching for
a promise
and water,
both broken
and dry.
there's
never
enough
syrup
for pancakes.
i drench
them,
i coat them,
but as soon
as i look away
for a moment,
the syrup's gone.
absorbed
into the fluff
and
i can't
taste
it
so i add
more,
and i eat
as fast
as i can,
but it's
never enough
for me.
now my
head
is
pounding
from the sugar
rush
i got
from syrup
i couldn't
taste
fast enough.
i saunter
through
the park,
remembering
the last
time the
floor was
painted red
and orange,
how far
and close
we've come.
now,
we're missing
a father
and clothes
are fitting
tighter,
but we're
skipping with
more grace
and less
fear.
our mind
seems
clearer,
our spirit,
brighter.
i
saunter
by the
statue
of the
seated woman
and i can't
see myself
in her
anymore.
trapped
in amber
like
an ancient
ant
i carve
and scoop
to find my way out
of years
of nostalgia
enclosing me
within my
past and
the stories
of those
who
precede me.
how can i
be me?
while
wrapped
in lingering
patterns
and broken
china
of years
i begged
to see
but could
not live.
the amber
cracks
and i
finally
breathe,
i tumbled
on the sandbar
as my feet
splashed
when meeting
the water.
i yearned
for cold sand
and salt water
under my feet.
sometimes
sturdy.
sometimes
pliable.
the closest thing
to feeling
like a child with
play-doh under
my fingernails.
here
i can set her free,
my naughty
seven-year-old
with golden eyes
and whimsical dreams,
she's always
wanted to change
her name
and grow her hair
and stay awake
while reading
books about
hidden
treasure chests.
i see you in the sea
i feel you pounding
hard on my chest,
having a hissy fit.
oh, how i've missed you.
oh, how i need you.
the dinghy
sailed
into the distance,
swaying
and shaking
like a trembling
hand.
like a lover's
heartbeat
yearning for
a reunion,
like a bird in
migration
searching for its
new home.
he hung on
to the pink quartz
in his left hand,
squeezing it tight
for self-love
and whatnot.
he also had carnelian
on his bedside table
so his beauty would
never rot.
all for a broken boy
to drink the glimmer
in his blood
and turn his light
off.
rain
gushed
in torrents
down the streets.
my socks were wet,
my hair drenched
in autumn-smelling
beads.
the gloomy
november night
embeded
cold into
my bones
and
i felt a
winter gust
whisper
in my ear:
i'm back
to haunt
you and your
locked up
fears.
we lay
under the willow tree,
watching clouds
go from cat
to god.
spring
is finally here,
we've been
calling for her
all winter long.
she's painted
the park pink,
and put a feather
under my nose.
she brought
back sunlight
and the
lukewarm breeze
and restored
the yellow
in our souls.
we slow dance
in the kitchen
so i settle down.
anguish darkens
my features,
there was a
rude old lady
on the bus
and a slow man
by the train.
you hold me close
and sway me
back and forth
until i'm soothed
like a child
and i feel
how all the love
in the world
clouds
my bloodstream:
i'm all right
because i'm yours
and you're mine
in our bubble
of clumsy feet
and chuckles,
rain
or shine.
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writing since 2014 · 63 entries · 62 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means nani showed up.
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the words nani reaches for
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