Posted by Aysha El Shamayleh | Filed under Poetry, Print
1. You are a thunderstorm.
2. I am a mouthful of rain.
3. I like it when you hold my hand under street lights. Our shadows aren’t gender biased.
4. I used to have an obsession with disposable razors. I don’t like talking about it.
5. I am a doughnut. Aren’t all women that way?
6. I think I belong in the space between your palms and your chest when you pray.
7. You don’t pray often enough. I wish you did.
8. I lost a friend 3 weeks ago. She thinks I’m too proud. I think I’m too tired of pushing. I love her. She used to make me happy. .
9. I have tasted my sweat a few times. It wasn’t fulfilling.
10. I like tucking people in bed. It involves beds and passion, but no one will be calling me a mistake the next morning.
11. I always leave.
12. The only time I ever feel complete is wiping off the wetness you leave on my neck after you break down.
13. Last night I put you back together. I knew where each piece goes.
14. 7 months ago my sister hoped my transcontinental flight crashes. I’m not sure I’m as alive now as when I boarded it.
15. I like long roads. I often fall flat on my face. I swallow the gravel. The flavor suits me…it’s an acquired taste.
2 Responses to “”
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Nomali Says:
November 15th, 2010 at 5:15 amIt makes sense because it doesnt make sense. The bit that insinuates a need to be needed but hardly ever sticking around to find out-that’s me.
I think I like you.
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November Says:
February 1st, 2011 at 2:02 amthis is gorgeous.
