TW: domestic abuse, harsh language,
your breasts are full with milk but they're still too small.
you're gorgeous but don't fuck him enough.
you're intelligent but a little too emotional.
I love you but if you ever cross me again,
I will fuck you up.
attention whore, selfish flee, slut, ungrateful leech, prude, bitch, scum of the earth,
I can't wait for you to die.
.
what if I said these words to you?
would you still keep me around?
my great-grandmother was named after a girl who was
maimed and martyred.
betrayed by a friend, she was stolen from her home,
left to the whims of a
prideful pasha.
their names are Sol,
and they are the warmth that beams from Tangier's sun.
.
my grandmother was named after hers who was
blamed and battered.
hated by a neighbor, she was evicted from her home,
and remained with her
buried brethren.
their names are Rajmona,
and they are the wind that sweeps Melilla's shore.
.
my father was named after his great-grandfather who was
bruised and butchered.
found not-guilty by an official, his murderer moved into his home.
his death certificate left
spurned, spotless.
their names are Messoud,
and they are the rocks that form Oujda's mountains.
"you can't subject others
to your hysterics,"
she voiced like my brother,
like my father and sister.
.
"excuse me?" I choked.
you see,
i had been in a dream
before she had spoke.
.
i wore a crown on my head,
a carpet laid at my feet,
for my enemies
to tread.
.
with a sword
by my side
with blood poured
on the floor, and a gleam in my eye.
.
a cage to my left,
full of shapeless birds I had heard
that would have partaken in theft
but were made a part of my herd.
.
i was a queen
who ruled on her throne.
i was an assassin
who forged bloodstone.
i was a shepherd
who led on her own.
.
i thought i had met all of the villains.
with a mere gaze i could point them out,
and destroy their tortuous munitions.
.
did i not stare into her eyes?
they're green like mine.
i thought their wonder and kindness to be a sign.
but those words show it was simply all a guise.
.
she stares at me
as my crown melts
and my carpet is rolled
and my sword loses its sheen
and their blood dries and leaves welts
and my eyes grow old
and the creatures are set free.
and then
she repeats.
I am tired of trying to find you in my phone.
Sometimes, it feels like you only exist in small pixels of light clustered together
to show me your face.
The only way to hear your voice now is by sticking the phone to my ear
and listening to the same words over and over and over again.
They were words that were muttered into existence with a task,
and once the task was fulfilled,
they were empty.
All meaning lost,
until I found those words on my damn phone.
I bet you didn’t know
how much I would hold onto those words.
It’s so impersonal.
You gave birth to me and now I can’t even hear your voice or see your face?
Sometimes, my heart goes as still as yours is now.
Other times, I hear my heart beating.
I can hear everyone’s heart beating.
It’s a rhythm that the world dances to.
But you can’t dance anymore.
You loved to dance.
