No one ever told me not to cry
But for some reason, I knew crying was shameful.
So, basically if you cry, you're not a real man.

I was six or seven years old.
Mama wanted me to learn a musical instrument, so I chose the piano.
She looked for a place that could teach me and found an instructor at the club.
They arranged for me and my brother to take lessons with him.

I start knitting.
My hands aren’t yet used to the two new needles.
I do not think of you.
I wrap the yarn around the needle to start stitching.
I applaud myself for not thinking of you until the third stitch.

I’m still in shock.
Perhaps it’s because she was the first woman I had sexual relations with.
Perhaps it’s because our sexual relationship developed so quickly.
Perhaps it’s because we separated so suddenly.
romantic relationships, sex, breakups

The reason why the poetess wants to leave her busy life behind and focus on simpler things hasn’t been determined yet.
But I’m sure that I don’t want people around me to assume that my interests are trivial just because I’m a woman.
Or because of the way I look.

I want to be free.
I want to write whatever I want.
But all married women now have red lines they can’t cross.
“Now that we live together, you have to forget about writing,”
They’re told as soon as they get married.

I learned to love him over the years,
as I watched him become a human being:
learning to talk
and becoming stubborn, bright, artistic, and funny.

You’re beautiful.
I’m not beautiful like you.
Are you going to be happy?
Does he hug you?
He loves you, right? Did he say it to you? Are you sure?

I loved him.
I was separated then.
I had a unique personality and was respected by everyone.
He was controlling and isolated me from my friends and family.
physical violence, gender violence, breakups, romantic relationships

I don't regret anything;
I just had no idea what I was getting myself into:
the lies, the secrecy, the plotting,
the unethicality of the women of the family I was marrying into
and the blind denial of the men.