openness 📖

How much would you like to know about me?
You can care only so much.
You don’t want to know every struggle
that every individual goes through.

How much do you really want to know
about my background, sexuality, passions, and loves?
Maybe we can connect
if you find a thread that ties us together.

Do you really want to know
what makes me sad, angry, indignant?
Will you grow hateful and malicious,
if we don’t see eye to eye?

Before I lay myself out in the open,
before I strip my heart bare,
I just wanted to ask:
do you really want to know me?

baby fever

I never want to be a mother.
Even though,
I love to teach,
and I yearn to help a child
see life through the lens of beauty.

I never want to be a mother.
How could I be a good parent,
when I never learned the ways,
from my mother who once said:
“You were the biggest mistake
I have ever made.”

I don’t want to be a mother,
but I do
want to cook for a child and say:
“Look at all the different ways
that you can make eggs;
which one do you like the best,
my love?”

landscape

I have no poetry in me;
in me, there are valleys
full of dark memories,
there are rivers foaming against the rocks,
full of incomprehensible thoughts and anxieties.

In me, there are mountains,
made of challenges I am yet to overcome;
struggles with my sense of self-worth,
fear of the unknown,
a cruel view of my own self.

There are dark clouds made of past mistakes,
threatening and ominous,
obscuring a blue sky full of hope,
nevertheless,
the sun shines through,
and love endures.