amal-gamate

[amal-gamate]

Phool dena mohabbat nahi hai;

Phoolon ki tarah rakhna mohabbat hai

[amal-gamate]

The Cycle of Desi Daughters

My mother wants me to get married.

I see her bruises from under her sleeves

I hear her sharp inhales from moving too quickly

I hear her pleades, with God, with Him.

her cheeks, eroded from everlasting waterfalls

her nose, always red

it's not just my mother

it's my sister, my cousin, my aunt, my grandmother, my niece, my friend, my neighbour, my maid.

it's them. it's her. it will be me

My mother wants me to get married.

Why?

[amal-gamate]

why do I have the need to be pretty even though no one can see me?

[amal-gamate]

neglected self love

who will love me for me? when I don't love me for me?

who will love my half shaven legs because I was too tired to finish?

who will love my hair slicked back with my own neglect?

who will love my spot ridden skin and yellow teeth?

who will love my eyebags? the evidence of my restless nights wondering

who will love me for me? when I can't love me for me

[amal-gamate]

what part of myself can I kill to feel alive?

[amal-gamate]

I tire of thinking of the things I

could've done

would've been

should've said

I often forget I also have done, have been and have said, things the past me would have thought about.

[amal-gamate]

I speak of love as if I know it's very meaning, but deep down i just long for it

I dont actually know what it is, but I know for once I receive it, I'll panic and push it away.

I guard my heart for how frail it truly is. As I fear it'll shatter into a million pieces

And I'll tire from picking them up over and over again