The day you told me you loved me,
neither of us believed in love.
There was a loneliness in our relationship
that only roses could fill -
that only late night confessions could disguise -
that only “lay under the stars with me” kind of silences could
try and make it okay.
we did not understand patience.
we only knew that oranges start
to rot when they get soft
and we did not want to be soft.
we did not want to rot.
we did not want to be alone.
“the white boys at school think that black girls are disgusting. that’s what they’re all fed at dinner, hate. they say black girls are easy. white girls are more challenging. they told my friends and i that they would never look at black girl. only Rihanna and Beyoncé. it was so hurtful. they said their mothers would cry and their fathers would be disappointed, if ever. they kept asking us how we manage. i told them not to worry, black girls aren’t deserving of them & their small dicks.”
- my 17 y/o brother
about how I convinced myself to stay.
I know what you want to hear-
that I slayed the dragon and swallowed my demons
and laughed in the face of my nightmares
and lived happily ever after-
but the truth is much more ordinary.
the truth is I breathe through the pain
even on the days it whistles between my ribs
on every inhale and every exhale
and I celebrate like hell on the days it doesn’t make a sound. Fortesa Latifi - the d word is the elephant in the room