Imperfect Ink
I have written multitudes of hellos and goodbyes to absent hearts that did not deserve my naked odes and letters and declarations as much as they didn’t care for my tangible thoughts. But for you, I have told myself you are too much goodness, too much pure and honest love to humanize in imperfect ink. I have pushed the words all the way to the tip of my tongue— so close to verbalizing memories, revolutions that you have brought me to and through, before running back and telling myself today was not the day. But today is the day. -- I take your blinding lights that illuminate a restless world of its own and call it home because somewhere between dreams of a existence there and reality of a life here, I have found the bits and pieces I never knew I needed. Unfamiliar faces that have become my everyday routine are anything but mundane. I see my mother’s unconditional love in every stranger’s innocent smile and my father’s perseverance in every tired immigrant student that is thinking about future meals, future jobs, future beds, future homes, future securities, future lives for daughters like me that have found themselves being their future. -- Bear with me. I could ramble on for infinities as to why I am yours and why I am shamelessly begging you to be mine. But I’ll keep it short. You are streets that mimic the veins on my wrist-- winding and unplanned confusion that somehow always finds its way You are blue skies as expansive as my coffee colored skin where I continue finding comfort and adventure all at once. High rises that see no limits hold together what keeps me together. From their midnight firework laughter to the inaudible rise and fall of his chest at 6am, you have it all. You have home.