Sunday Blues
I.
I go to church to renew my faith in Islam
remember “anyone with an ounce of la ilaha’illAllah enters paradise”
kiss the hands of old women who gift me the blessings of Jesus
(think silently; it will take more than that)
II.
teach masjid children about Isa
quiet them, to prepare them for the real world
confiscate their doodles for the same reason
leave, weighing whether God will punish or reward me
III.
cry into my 5 year old brother’s pillow
tell my mother I already ate
(don’t mention that was 2 days ago)
starve myself from my husband’s arms
IV.
line my bedroom wall with student drawings
realize they were paying attention the whole time
cry into my cat’s pillow
allow myself to drink a cup of milk
give him half
V.
starve myself from my husbands voice
VI.
take my birth control 2 hours late
pray a child overcomes the 1.8%
read about at home abortions
repeat “dead children are angels” in whispers
VII.
wonder if I created something holy
VIII.
sleep remembering both Jesus and Isa performed miracles
“you write poetry, but I am your living poem” - my husband
I scratch my head to tear you from my thoughts. I’ve never been diagnosed with dandruff but, also never with depression. The doctor sat me down and told me it’s normal to want to peel off your own skin to leave your body. That life, sometimes made us all want to. I heard Chopin drown his chuckles, remembered that even he was familiar with poor health. Maybe we’d sit alone and cry over the lovers that left him, & the one that wants to return to me.
I told the psychiatrist I tried to plant a garden in the spaces between my bones. My father and I gardened in a spring like this one- maybe depression would leave me like a cold. But you need sunshine for that. And love, you’d need love for that too.
I am always on a seesaw between blissful happiness and haunting loneliness
keep me out of your mouth
I no longer call it home
a memory
he said “I wish you would straighten your hair more often”
he meant, “your curls are unruly, just like the rest of you”
(breathe in heavily two times,
out once - just like you practiced)
it is too early for the “you are too much to tame” argument
that,
“your kisses force too much passion”
“you can’t bring him back, he doesn’t live in my mouth”
“I am not a body for him to rest in”
“leave him out of my bedroom”
“remember how you left him; laughing at his sadness”
“he no longer answers your calls”
“you married the wrong man”
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Hey Everyone! - I know this is using tumblr for personal benefit but hear me out:
If you guys follow my blog/poetry you’ll notice that I am going to be heading to New York for the College Unions Poetry Invitationals to compete in poetry slams - but our team needs donations to help get us there (being broke college students and all). ANY AMOUNT HELPS - please don’t be shy even if it’s just $1! At the very least, please re-blog.
Thank you,
-Soz
“
People fall so in love with their pain, they can’t leave it behind. The same as the stories they tell. We trap ourselves.
Chuck Palahniuk (via hellanne)
(via thelittleliestold)
I told him “you crawled against my skin like a hundred hungry ants. if only you had the strength to carry me away”
I wear sadness like a badge of honor
“hold your tongue, now is not the time,”
strains the bodies of relationships
