my friends think I’m dumb because I keep falling in love
my 1st luv, de str uc tio n, and........................
testing, testing, testing,
Dear whomever,
I am beginning to reminisce on my roots. My own roots - not the culture, not the blood, but the things I’ve been drawn to throughout my life.
I’ve always loved the words but specifically
the
de str uc tio n
of them.
I hated the grammar classes - and I hated teaching the grammar, when I was a teacher. Before my classes with the third graders I would watch the videos, I would try to grasp the concepts once and for all, and hope it all stayed with me.
I never studied for the exams, when I was a third grader. I treated the questions like rationale. I circled the Present Perfect Tense out of pure instinct. I was always right.
I fucking loved being right.
I hate English because English is the easiest language. It’s the fuckboy of languages. I like fuckboys but only when they love me; when I’m the only one they can love. Arabic is more beautiful and has a lower body count but he’s too bulky for me; nothing about him fits inside my mouth and he takes ages to come.
Arabic doesn’t even like me; Arabic only texts after midnight; Arabic keeps asking me for pics, please? Arabic’s dying to let me let him lose his virginity. But I keep going back to my origins,
to English who was my first kiss, it taught me my ways, who bruised my lips, who cleansed himself for me. He keeps coming back to me like instinct and I keep letting him in through the door like instinct and
I swear,
it gets tiresome, trying to fit another language in this mouth.
I’m set in my ways. I love this one and can’t let him go
I dream about U often. Yeah, U and everyone else all the time. My dreams have haunted me for my entire life. I am always running, but sometimes I am watching. I watch U and try to get a grasp of who U are. Then I watch the shadows, mine and yours. They merge together.
U shift into Me.
We are all from the same thing.
Okay, I like rhyming. Sorry. My first poem was about my body and it didn’t rhyme. Most of my poems are about my body or his body or love or God. I LIKE TO TREAT WORDS LIKE NOTES. CLEFS. NOTATIONS. I always wanted to play the piano. I made the paper into one.
But I hate reading any of it aloud. I’m no singer. I’m a writer who livens up the song and then a performer comes and calls it hers,
I’m trying to be more creative. After [REDACTED], I tried to become more reasonable. I longed for clarity and research papers, for the days of university. I wanted to write what’s real and forget about all the dreams.
But I kept on dreaming. U, Me, our one shadow. Our limbs curled together like vines; no one could tell who’s who. When we sleep you keep reaching for me. Instinct. Language. Touch.
LET’S TALK, FOR ONCE. USE UR FUCKING WORDS. I have plenty and you have none. Listen, start with the smoke that’s in your mouth that’s, seconds later, in mine. This way it won’t burn, you tell me. It still does but the kiss softens the hurt. I will write about this moment forever n ever n ever.
It all hurts, always, and you keep trying to act like that’s not true. You keep trying to get to the point where you can escape the burn. You keep trying to soften the blows but
the blows will
always
hurt
and
most of the time
they
burn,
too
.
it’s for the best.
My friends hate everything I do, but all I do is fall in love. My parents didn’t get divorced but my dad died and that’s the same thing. So now the Internet tells me I have daddy issues, or mommy issues, and I’m dying for love. everything is a symptom of something wrong. Sorry Sorry Sorry I don’t mean to be broken. I didn’t even know until you Mentioned It. It’s not Bipolar he just Almost Raped Me. and there’s always the anxiety.
But I know love, I know him, He’s English And He Kisses Me Like Breathing. I wake up With Poems in MY POCKETS. Then I go to work and Pretend I’m Normal and Care About Money.
You don’t get it. My dad is dead and two decades later my mother is still Loyal to him. I know Love Never Dies. I know and you keep trying to tell me I Don’t. I Know Love Only Like Death. I Know Love Like Mourning. Only I Know. YOU DON’T GET IT.
Shut up!
My friends think I’m stupid, just because I tripped and spilled the wine. My friends think I’m dumb because I keep falling in love. My friends are always judging me because I’m so soft and the last boy I loved told me I was TOO EASY TOO SOFT TOO EASY TO MANIPULATE
I fall in love and get stupid.
It’s not my fault, it’s my mom’s.
I taught little kids English and they hated spelling. I tried to Urge them to Ditch Autocorrect. To take off their Apple Watch.
But realy, I wanted to tel thm n0n 0f et mattrd. i, 2, wanted to ditch the rools. fuck it, just get passionate about it.
What I hated most was that they cared so little.
THIS IS MY LUVR AND UR NOT TAKING HIM SERIOUSLY.
why does no one care about things like I do?
tell me a dream, tell me something, but don’t sit in my couch all silent and SO nothing.
amal.
it means hope, and i keep hoping.
OH MY GODDDD
Ohhhh this is my favorite one