It felt as if I was in a wrestling match.
That his purpose was to invade and destroy everything.
That he had no intention to listen.
That survival was for the fittest.

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.

It all started with a push up bra.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a push up bra!
It was my graduation gift from my mother.
“Ma, I’m not going to wear this! No way!”
“Why? You can't go around looking flat like that!”

We’re not allowed to laugh in public.
We’re not allowed to be happy or dance in public.
We’re not allowed to sing in public.
We’re not even allowed to cry in public.
We’re not allowed to do anything in public.

I was in the third grade and we took the same bus to school.
He was fair-skinned and had rosy cheeks.
He had thick, soft, jet black hair.
He had thick eyebrows and piercing eyes.
He was the class and bus clown.
He was that kid who joked around all the time.
I loved him.
romantic relationships, school

What’s he thinking of?
Does she have the right to say no?
Is it my right to pass judgement on her?
Is it her fault that she’s giving in to society’s standards?

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.

I went to my shrink and told her there was a hole inside of me.
Prescribe something, anything. I'm not happy feeling this way.
It's like someone plunged their hand deep inside, took something, and left.

I honestly don’t understand people who ask me that question.
“How could you let him?”
It’s not like when a man’s about to beat up his wife, he stops to ask her if she’d let him first.
Why is there an assumption that just because something happened, she must have agreed to it?
gender violence, marriage, social pressure, romantic relationships

Why don’t I trust my body?
When I felt comfortable with you, why didn’t I believe that I was actually in love?
I didn’t believe the touch of the hand or my head resting on your shoulder.
Or when you lifted me off the ground so we could dance.