You’re drunk in a bathtub
Sometimes it saves you,
sometimes it can set you free.
Oh but it will hurt.
I love you.
The kind of love that keeps me up on most nights
but let’s me fall asleep enough to keep myself going.
The kind of love would still bring tears into my eyes
20 years from now, when i lean in and kiss you.
I am in love with you.
I think of your face when I am doing the laundry
and eating at the corner McDonald’s.
And my god, when the times comes,
when I do finally get to see you,
even if it’s for a millisecond,
I won’t stop smiling the entire day.
I want you.
I want to kiss you right after you wake up
and I wouldn’t care about your morning breath.
I want to kiss you in every country we are going to visit
From the cliché romance in France
to the sun kissed adventures in Maldives
to the snowy mountains in Switzerland.
This is us,
we are us
and we are right where you and I want to be.
I can’t stop thinking about your birthday last year,
and how you chose getting high over seeing me
and how much that tore me apart.
I made excuses for you, you were too young,
too foolish to know.
I hid it all,
I wrote to you, about you, for you
So I could celebrate with you.
Eighteen in poems, prose, writing and love.
I threw it all away, oh what a waste!
please let it not happen this year,
oh please let this year be good.
Your birthday is coming.
My god, your birthday is almost here.
You don’t think it’s anything important
but it’s the most important to me.
If it were not for March 8th, you would not be alive.
we would not be co existing the way we are now.
Even though you hate your mother who pushes you too hard
and have an alcoholic father you would do without,
Without them, you wouldn’t be here.
Oh you wouldn’t be here.
What a sad world will that be.
I swear I only want to hear about you, to know what you’ve been doing. It’s a hundred years since we’ve met―it may be another hundred before we meet again.
it’s one of those days
I have woken up but I feel numb
Like the happiness got drained away from me
while I was sleeping on my messy bed.
I do not long to eat breakfast as I did
When I was once a kid.
How did I get here?
Should I drag myself out of bed
and do my chores or should I lie here
numb, until a prince comes on a horse?
I guess it’s time
to save myself.
I feel like drowning today.
My parents are holding hands in the car on the way home
and it’s beautiful.
They don’t always get along, but it’s eleven o’clock on a
grey August Sunday and my father turned fifty today.
And I think my mother understands tonight that he is
coming to the realization that he is closer to sixty
than sixteen, and he is wondering how he got here.
But somehow their fingers threaded together
and the cool pavement after the rain
is enough tonight.
And tonight is sad, but it is also good.
You’re miles away, but you love me,
but one day it will be late on a quiet day,
and I’ll weave my hand through yours
while you drive
and the mere outline of your frame in the
cool starlight will be captivating, and I’ll smile
and wonder how I got here,
and wonder how I got to be with you.
We are closer to sixteen than twenty-six,
but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired
of holding your hand.
A little white pill the size of your
pinky nail and two mouthfuls of
Coke hide your crime. You don’t
think to tell your mother, who
would kill you if she found out.
You don’t even stop to wonder
about motherhood, if it’s for you.
If it’s not. All you care about is
fear and your boyfriend holding
your hand as you give the $50
bill to the pharmacist. The rest
of us wait patiently behind you,
witnesses. You take it in the car,
under the sun. Two mouthfuls of
Coke. You touch your stomach
after and swear you can feel it
working. There is a feeling of
victory, of comradery in the car
afterwards. There is laughter.
A swearing off of sex. Later, as
we stop to get lunch, you sneak
a palm onto your womb. You
whisper an apology that no one
I am your mother and I have given you life and a home but I will never tell you what to do with your hair, or your body, or yourself. I can only guide you. Will I think that dyeing your hair the 5th time this week will damage your hair? Yes. But I will guide you to do it properly, but if your patience is wary then you will learn from your mistakes. A bad hairdo, we have all been there. If you want the colors of rainbow in your hair, then be it may, decorate your hair. For it is yours.
If you come crying to me in the middle of the night because your self esteem has gone down because a boy in your class told you that your hair was weird and that you were fat, honey, i’ll hold you throughout the night. Fat is and will never be an insult. There is no wrong way for a body to be. There is no wrong way for hair to be. Next day, I hope you swing a punch at the boy, and every day after, realise comments from other people do not matter. Ever.
Boys are not the only people who will be mean. So will girls, teachers, adults, everyone. Unfortunately, even I. I will not claim to be perfect. I will say something in frustration or out of anger. But know this, I will never intentionally say anything hurtful and when I do, I will apologize to you a thousand times because you are a princess and you deserve it.
My daughter, you will be raised to respect people, but only if they deserve it. If you do not wish to respect certain members of your extended family, I will not tell you to act a part. Blood doesn’t mean a thing if someone is emotionally abusive. Remember that.
Most of all my daughter, you will be taught to fight. Fight in self defense, fight for power and fight the media. Men will whistle at you and try to harass you, when the time comes, you will be prepared to fight. Do not giggle and remain quiet. Fight, punch, kick, scream. Be nasty. Do not let a group of drunk men treat you anything less than the queen you are. Honey, you will be told that a woman has no place in the work place and your male peers and colleagues will jeer at you. When the time comes, stick up for yourself. Work hard, and work better. Be better than them and once you are above them, fire them. But know when to give up. Give up if your workplace makes you feel less safe. Get out, file a lawsuit. Come back. You will teach these men not to treat you anything less than a human. Fight the media. Oh god, fight the media. If you don’t have big breasts it’s okay. If you do have big breasts it’s okay. A woman is not measured by her bra size, nor her waist size. If you like a dress, wear it. Your body is yours, your body shape is yours. The dress does not wear you, you wear the dress.
Honey, it’s a tough world. I will be there beside you always, guiding you, but never for a second, telling you what to do. Be who you are, even if it gets confusing. Instincts is key and gut feelings are almost always right.