27 July 2016
Later you would come to my door, with your own key on your own time, and lay in my bed after the Maghrib prayer. The mosque shook and thundered with the prayer that released everyone from their fast. Every night you would pray, then eat eggs and dates and salty fried bread, then barely knock on my bedroom door before entering and devouring me with more hunger than the evening's breakfast. And that is where we would stay, unclothed, huddled together in front of my fan, as the streets filled with children and families reveling in the late hours.
They were just four stories down but seemed a lifetime away from my shuttered window. I would kiss your face, bury my head in your shoulder, sometimes cry, sometimes laugh. We listened to music and made love for hours. Your skin was so soft and dark, your beard so harsh and clean. It started with a casual ease, because I was intensely sad and needed to be held. But by the end you could make my body shake like someone I had loved for years and I counted the seconds listening for the Imam to send you to me.
When I first moved in to this apartment, I would joke about what a princess I felt like high above the center city streets. Sometimes I lock myself in for days at a time to get a break from the bustle of the souk and the schoolchildren endlessly coming and going from class. But I never felt more isolated than in those times waiting for you. The minute hand dragged in extremely long ticks lingering for you, knowing you were out there, knowing I was waiting.
And the one who sent you to me would take you away, calling out from the minaret that it was the time to have juice and cookies and prepare for another long day of fasting. As the sun peeked back into the sky I was always alone, stretched out in my now empty bed, dreaming of your kisses on my back.
29 April 2016
I don’t get why you think I don’t understand you as a person. I know who you are. I have spent the last 2 years being in love with you, something that I do not take for granted. You have been of tremendous help to my head and my heart, and I am grateful for every single second of love that I have felt since I met you, and all the love that you have given me during our time together. You say you don’t even know who I am anymore, but you know who I am. I am the same man that you fell in love with. The same man that ate macaroons and played ukulele for you in the park. The same man that held, kissed, and drank champagne with you in the pool. The same man that made love to you seven times in one day in the “drug den” and ate mussels with you while listening to Mac DeMarco. The same man that would tell you how you beautiful you looked every time he saw you. The same man that dry humped you at Kroger when no one was looking. The same man that swam with you in Santa Marta and ate arepas de huevo. The same man that visited you in Morocco, ate msemen, and celebrated eid-al-fitr in a tarbouche and djellaba. The same man that celebrate new year’s eve with you in Paris and ate steak frites and escargot with you. The same man that took bubble baths with you and cuddled you in bed even though you were soaking wet. The same man that wants to be your husband, and the father of your children.
The same man that broke your heart. And then same man that will stitch your heart back up and make you the happiest woman in the world.
everything in your life
except for me
so i assume
is perfect, now.
23 April 2016
when my face will look like the skin on old pudding
and i'll look back at pictures of sunburt Morocco
how young i was then!
i wonder when the letter will come
that tells me what is coming next
when that breeze will blow by
and take me floating off on it
i wonder when i will stop thinking of him
stop hating him
stop thinking at all
until i see pictures of violet Colombia
how dumb i was then!
i wonder when the
spining will starve
and the trees will stop rustling
and the roosters crow softer
all the time
and a little bit behind
22 March 2016
09 March 2016
06 December 2015
In high school I stayed up all night, not so unusual. I would write down all my fears in journals covered in fairies and glitter. I wrote all the time. I wrote letters I never sent to boys who broke my heart. I wrote letters to boys who's hearts I had broken. I reorganized my closet, and I wrote short stories about it. I romanticized my teenage adventures and worried I was not having enough of them. And if all else failed then I would call my friend Katie and we would watch late night infomercials together until the screens went to static and there was nothing left to sell.
In college I left my sleeping boyfriend in our bed in my first ever apartment and scrubbed the kitchen floor all night because I knew our relationship was over and I didn't know what to do with that information. I fretted about my classes, and my body, and my decisions. I worried about the future and all the unknowns that would come with it. The night before the LSAT I stalked along the floor of the basement of the house where I grew up and considered changing everything and everyone and doing everything I could to assure never feeling so frightened again. But it wasn't the last time. It is never the last time.
In law school I would just drink.
And now I sit in my bed, listening to the morning call to prayer pour out of the mosque, seeing the first glimpses of day creeping in through my shutters, wondering what I will be doing with my life and if I really want to get married at all. Will I find a passion after this that will fullfill me emotionally and financially and and and and
Will he really be the one who will become my real partner in this crazy life? When I look into his big brown eyes I want to believe I will be able to sleep, with him, forever. I just want to be able to sleep.
28 August 2015
the truth is i just really really want to be kissed.
also, i am getting over my post-madagascar depression. not that i was depressed, but it was a really weird thing. like i would look at diet coke, and think about how they don't have that in madagascar, and it would make me want to cry. diet coke?! what a ridiculous idea for a starving country, or any country. anyway, that sort of thing. but i am adjusting again. its horrible, but in a way i just have to accept a lot of things about my life, because otherwise you'll drive yourself mad thinking about all the things you have and all the things other people dont have.
oh chester, what if i don't get accepted to any law schools? oh, oh, oh. sorry, i try and try not to think about it, but that little annoying thought just always creeps into my mind, in the morning, at tea, and laying in bed at night. i am not thinking about it. i am not thinking about it. i am not thinking about it.
24 August 2015
I think I can do this. I have not made a huge mistake.
29 April 2014
16 April 2014
start by kissing
each finger tip,
both palms and each thumb
I will kiss your
the nape of your neck
Your cheeks, your nose,
the funny bald spot in your beard.
I will kiss your
gets extra special attention:
tickles my nose,
my lips drag and
kiss and kiss and kiss you;
I will kiss you
until kisses seem
meaningless like a
long repeated word,
then I will kiss you