I love it when you call me beautiful;
you stare at me, and you gasp,
and if your phone rings
you pick up to tell them,
“Sorry, I can't make it,
something important came up tonight”
I love it when we stay home all day long
and we play and laugh,
a devilish kind of tickling going between us;
don’t you sometimes wish we could renounce the world
and be each other playdate till forever and a day more?
I love it when we kiss because it always feels like the first time — we spent so much of life…
The only reason I met Xavier was that I was friends with his sister, Tania. Otherwise, it would have never crossed my mind to even speak to him. I knew he had a long list of part-time jobs he managed to keep for less than a month. Let’s say he had a very long resume… and he also had a pet bird.
It was a cobalt blue parakeet he had managed to trap a few months back. Apparently, the little bird had gotten separated from the flock and landed near the kitchen window of the trailer he and his sister…
Your little child has grown. His round face is now thinning out; his voice is changing and, oh, yes, he wants to eat the same three things:
Yes, he was always kind of a picky eater, but you still managed to get some variety into his diet. Some vegetables here, some fruit there. A bit of fish from time to time. You knew better than to be pushy. You wanted to help him establish good nutritional habits without generating food anxiety.
He was perfect, wasn’t he?
He always knew what to say, we always felt safe in his arms, and he seemed determined to protect us against everything and everybody.
He loved us “just as we were.” He managed to make us think we looked beautiful whenever he looked at us, despite what anybody else might have said before.
It was perfect—a real-life fairy tale.
Time went by, and it seemed like he lost his ability to give perfect speeches. Now almost everything he says seems wrong, or aggressive, or overly critical of us.
We feel attacked.
I’m a storyteller.
Sometimes I type tales while wearing my most professional face. Other times, I have to pry the words from my bleeding heart. They resist, but I always succeed.
I must write.
Yes, I use a pen name, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t honesty in my words. In fact, you could argue it is this alias, the one thing that allows me to spew it all, no filters allowed.
And yet, over the past few months, I have noticed a strange phenomenon. It was as if a veil wrapped my musings, a resistance to uncover it all…
I said goodbye
and started to walk away from you;
you knew you would not get
to see my face again.
Somehow, this was the moment
you decided you could not
let me go.
You said I was your lady,
your woman, the one and only;
without me, your before made no sense;
without me, your after was pointless.
How come you didn’t notice this
back when I loved you?
It wasn’t until I approached the door
that you noticed my strength
and my determination.
The courage in my heart did not appeal to you as much as when I…
Here I was, five months pregnant. I was a slow-shower, meaning most people who looked at me couldn’t tell I had a bun in the oven.
However, one day, I woke up, and five months of pregnancy dropped on me all at once. I had to make an emergency trip to buy some extra clothes. But that wasn’t the only thing the second semester brought me. In fact, what it delivered was something quite fascinating and fun.
I was horny like never before.
The nausea of the first three months was long gone. I was lucky enough to have only…
I was in the baby section of a supermarket, buying a gazillion baby wipes — babies need a lot of them. I guess the way I did it made me look very confident. I walked to the shelves and, without hesitation, grabbed a box of the brand I liked and placed it in my cart.
A man stood nearby and watched my every move. Then, he approached me.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I noticed you chose some fragrance-free wipes. Is there a particular reason for that?”
“Well,” I answered, “I just hate the smell of the other ones. I mean…
This love in me
has nowhere to go
and no vessel to contain it.
This fire in my chest
that aches to set your world on fire
to make you warm and cozy;
you didn’t want it,
you didn’t need it.
that used to lull me into sleep,
corrodes my veins and
consumes my soul.
This love is now a poison;
my happy memories rust away,
the lovely dreams fade away.
All my fault.
I look around and everything is contaminated; the world reeks of you and rubs on my face the fact that you are…