& i was still an insect scuttling over the ruins of battles i hadn’t fought.

how’d all these ghosts get in my yard?

Never mind that almost isn’t good enough; it’s all you have.”

I’ll hold all your terrific ugly.

My lover who is here is here.

I’ve never seen death streak across the sky of a loved one’s face – just mapped out the craters it leaves

This is the only way I know how to tell someone what I want, to describe the infinitely unfolded accordion of my heart. To love with a rage gone blind from the knowledge of the stolen lands, dirty wars, honor killings, false idols, forced soldiers, and buried throats haunting every sentence. Too many truths setting my retinas ablaze, and me mad,

I understand the gravity of a train from the empty space and afterbirth air I encounter when I run down to the platform twenty seconds too late. It is the same with all things of such weight – to know them best when you have just missed them.

You are asking if I would rather know or forget. If I would give all of this up in order to be happy. Yes. It is important to be happy. Yes. I would go back to holding him and not knowing.