sunburntashes

[sunburntashes]

Martha Gellhorn, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Marth Gellhorn

[sunburntashes]

will this feeling never go away, ma?

of being told who I'm supposed to be

of being scared to step out of

my role of being the father's daughter,

of being a nice friend, a good girl?

will this feeling be there when I'm older, too?

of being too much and holding back

so after they all have their fills

i'm left with the bloody remains

left to fester, until they decide to visit again?

will this feeling stop only after I'm one

with the thing that crawls under my skin?

the thing that shows it's fangs

when i smile at myself in the mirror,

am i your monster, or are you mine?

does having this feeling make me

a survivor?

or does it make me more your daughter than father's, ma?

does it ever go away?

[sunburntashes]

you regret your childhood

little miss perfect

little miss burnt-out adult

you always wished to have long hair, you even had a wig

why do you keep cutting it all off?

you wanted the freedom;

but now that you've got it, why did you realise

that it wasn't freedom at all, only a different prison

you wanted the body like the girls on TV

why do you have to hide it now?

you regret your childhood

nights asking the ceiling

if they had to make me suffer, why did they have me?

if they have me, why do they want a son?

you had the biggest kitchen set collection

you were so proud of it.

why do you feel forced to play kitchen now?

you regret your childhood

the skeletons in your closet—your wig, your kitchen set, your femininity, they call for you

and ask you: if you had to make me suffer, why did you keep me?

if you kept me, why do you keep dreaming of another life?

[sunburntashes]

Hello, I am Tareq from Gaza Iam trying save my famliy from the genocide happening here. I ask for your help in spreading my story and donating if you can contribute anything, no matter how small.Please don,t forget to sharethe latest post from my page and follow my account to help spread the story to the world. Thank you.

donate if you can!! and please share

[sunburntashes]

intimacy —the kind that can't be produced

a shared song, even over distance

our hands crookedly clasped,

not intertwicining tongues, but silent eyes,

giddy kind of intimacy,

the kind that exists only at sunset,

when we're sitting under the blue-orange sky

the kind they can't show in movies

with dots and scratches and effortless effort

and poking your arm and tongue-tied-but-still-reaching for you,

saying stupid face and my love and ass and darling all in one petty poke of the tongue

the kind that's ours

[sunburntashes]

[sunburntashes]

home

home, divine home, sublime home,

"home, huh?" I mumble to myself

as i brush my teeth for the night

the irony of nobody being home. . .

I've always walked alone,

all the roads diverged in woods

and the thin lines of gray

i have an inkling of home,

perhaps home is

words unsaid, hands squeezed a bit tighter

eyes: a window of longing, smile love-bitten

vile, love smitten, bloody

i suppose it seems like a crime scene at times

my home is a crime scene, then

golden skin and golden earth

white muslin behind the blue wheel,

kesari, hari borders, bloody at the edges

i was told to call its name in the dark

that if i find it, i will find home

but all i found were bodies,

bodies drained of tricolour and of dignity

and in the darkness of my empty home

sometimes i see my own emptiness

trickling out like rancid blood

sleeping in until the day melts

all i can do in my divine home, sublime home,

is wonder if i brushed my teeth, "uh. . . ?"

-hope, 15/08/24

[sunburntashes]

take my hand, take my whole life, too

here, my lunae,

my celeste, take my liver

hold it in your palm,

eat it like a pomegranate,

or drop it in the river for the fishes.

i will walk bloody,

trail behind wherever you go,

can i, my lighthouse?

can i follow you, even bruised and bloody,

and in health, too?

my sea, i want to get lost in you

i'll drown, and die happier than I'd live

my garden, my sky, my poetry,

you are stronger than a wave that knocks me off, and prettier than any rain i have seen

you can scoop me up and drink me down,

or leave me for the flies

I'll follow you like a river follows the sea,

like a fallen star wishes to survive

my moon, i'll fly to you, too, if i can

you can have me as your twin or drop me back down,

and I'll shatter into a thousand pieces

all the pieces that would smile up at you everyday

but my love, my kindness, my fever dream,

you give me you, my veiled sunflower,

you hold my hand, you love me, too. . .

[sunburntashes]

lipstick or blood?

no matter, it's dried on your skin now

it's wedged in your nails,

the claw marks on her feathers

are they icarus' burns or telltale scars?

no matter, it's proclaimed as your sin now

her body is limp, yours is villainy incarnate

does the fire singe the skin or burn within?

no matter, the heart is black ash now

home is absent, like her breath

are you to repent now or rejoice?

no matter, the damage is done now

the wall is painted bloody, murder has befell

fate's braids are being strung or unravelled?

no matter, no matter . . . what does matter,

what should be noted, is that you've destroyed the thing you love yet again

[sunburntashes]

time and time again,

my ears ring like a siren

then, and once again,

i'll see spots in my vision and blink it away

rhyme and rhyme again,

this might end up being unremarkable

two sides of a crime again,

me and my fountainhead

ringing in my ears like a chime again,

a tall child again, having her mother dry her hair

[sunburntashes]

this old bag my mum found

she told me to check it before i threw it away

fungus starting to build on the pink leather

i opened it to see

the ghosts of my past

being eaten away by the fungus called age

turning into dust what once was my childhood

a rotting corpse of my eleventh birthday in there, too

and since the final act of love must always be letting go

I'll walk out into the scorching sun,

and admire the ground, my sweaty hands and the leather bag that has a faded shine glittering under the sun before i throw it into the trash can

I'll let go of the claws ive dug into my own skin, trying to hold on, trying to never forget, remember, remember, remember

remember every heartbeat, every compulsive decision, every moment you looked and every moment you didn't

I'll forget, I'll let go, I'll never speak of walking alone

I'll wait for the sun to set, and at the first glance of the moon, I'll take the hand it offers with a kind smile, and I'll follow it to the ends of the world

[sunburntashes]

i feel like I've signed a petition to have myself executed

everything's still as a rock on the terrace over here

other than the light wind and the song and my snotty nose... yeah

"waqt ki qaid me zindagi hai magar"

the twinkling stars are reflected in my teary eyes, i guess

and that's pretty aesthetic, right?

i wish i could stay here forever

i wish it never has to be like this for me again

at a crossroads, why do i always look back?

searching for a sign, a flag to return to?

i am too afraid to go on

when everything seems to be still, because there's nobody here...

nobody to hug me until i melt

nobody to wipe my tears that reflect the shiny stars

nobody to tell this profound (I'd like to think) thing to

only the light wind and the music and my snotty nose... yeah

[sunburntashes]

Mere saamne wali khidki mein ek chand ka tukda rehta hai...

chand ka tukda meri samne wali khidke mein to nahi rehta

lekin, eid par phir bhi dikh gaya tha

meri hatheli pe pura chand tha

uski muskurahat aadhe chand jaisi thi

safed kurte pe zabardast hasi ka daag...

uska naam sunkar mera haal kuch

chand ko dekh kar samandar ke haal sa

aaj ka chand bada sundar hai

iski maine tasveer bhi kheech li

station par khade hue do chand

ek aasmaan tale the

chand ka tukda meri saamne wali khidki mein to nahi rehta

lekin khareed liya hai ek bazaar se maine

jo ab mere dil ke kareeb rehta hai

log kehte hai chand pura hota hai to

sabse zyada khoobsurati dikhta hai

lekin meri khushi to uss hi 14 ke chand me hai

ye nazrana usne diya to nahi

magar ab chand ka mere pas ek aur tukda hai

is raaz mein bas koi shaamil hai toh

mai aur meri duaein

aur shayad uski bhi? (kaash haha)

[sunburntashes]

[sunburntashes]

heyyyy does this make sense and does it make sense if I say its about love and pain

[sunburntashes]

we went to see salt pans once

dhobi ghat, my mom told me

i wonder if that place was even real

did i dream it up, mother?

did the happiness of childhood ever exist

did the breeziness of not questioning every action and thought, ever exist?

in what realm was that?

it feels eons ago

was it only a few seven years ago?

when we were at nani ke ghar

and we married two dolls

and then you and i stole mangoes

and enjoyed their sweetness

as our mothers cooked up dosa on the stove?

was it a figment of my imagination?

for now, it has been months

since i threw a temper tantrum

and my mom ever-so-lovingly took me in her arms and cooed I'll get you chocolates, baby

and it has been months since i've seen you

your face is happy, childlike in my memory

but we crack jokes on trauma now

and i avoid coming over at your house

because i've developed "social anxiety" now

and its hard and i wish i wasnt like this

and im sorry and im still a child and i don't like how ive grown, how we've grown apart

i still remember crying when you were always the one to leave first

did i somehow develop a fear for it and started never coming to see you in the first place?

did we somehow never really share those secret mangoes, those inside jokes?

was it all a dream? was it all ever real?

[sunburntashes]

I am my father’s daughter - I only know how to let people take