Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started

I hate the constancy of portraits.

They carry the sin of immortalising souls.

Just like the walls of my pretty house

are guilty

of not echoing the cacophony of abuses

I command the carriage of my diasporic self

to different places; craving for a home.

And wonder.

If my lover will ever discover my strength

in the hollowness between my clavicle?

Desperate to pounce at any ounce of affection.

Desperate to find a home in his arms.

I wonder

if he will ever comprehend the flash of my eyes

as they coalesce scattered flashbacks into a cobweb of paranoia?

And abandon his embrace

for the cloak of my insecurities.

I look at my little sister

and wonder.

if she will ever understand why the chronicles of our family

lambasted my existence.

I wonder if her head will bow down

to the burden of their honor-laden chaddar?

Or wreak havoc?

Stifling her soul with the burden of a greater vengeance.

I want to save and preserve

her present self

before she resembles the caricature in my mirror.

(picture by Laura Gomez)

Published by queenofclumsiness

I am the queen of clumsiness and bad jokes. I oscillate between being an Amy Santiago and being a cold-hearted workaholic . I like to overeat and write when I happen to be free . I specialise in overthinking so be kind with your feedback. :)

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: