Lemon

His love was as sweet as lemon,

the fights we had were ripe with grief,

the kisses we shared always left some bitter taste in my mouth.

But even lemons taste okay with a pinch of salt.
And if his love was like lemon I was ready to be his salt.

A lemon ft my hand.

Chokers, crop tops and skin tight skirts..

How comfortable do the chokers feel?

Do they cut your words every time you try to speak?

And the white crop tops?

How many times do they remind you 

to tuck in your stomach 

-just like your other insecurities?

Do you sometimes feel like

unpacking parts of yourself then stop

because other men may get threatened?

And the skin tight skirts..?

Do you hear their silent whispers

when they tell you to

keep your legs closed?

I was born for the loose shirts

and flared pants.

They help me run far,

far away from ideologies

and break out of boxes

created to constrict me. 

Can I touch your hair?

It looks too good to be true

Can I touch your hair?

I would like to validate your authenticity

Can I touch your hair? 

I want to alienate you 

more than you already are

Can I invade your space

even against your objection?

Can I treat you like a shiny object,

Like a toy to entertain my curiosity.

Like how my forefathers explored

your land and took everything from you.

I too want a bit and then maybe some more and more...

Can I unravel the mysteries behind your magic?

Deep

It's not that deep

He said as he dug through me.

As if unfolding the lining in my stomach

Was not enough.

He smirked and licked his lips

I closed my eyes and anticipated

the damages he would do.

It's not that deep he said as he ate my insides 

he spreaded my thighs on his leopard printed sheets...

"I don't mix drinks", he said.

Me too I thought

I don't mix drinks

only anxiety and beliefs.

A cup of lust, a handful of prayer and a sprinkle of self doubt,

'Ah A Girl'.

(Birth)

The first time you came out

of your Mother’s womb

the Earth fell on her feet.

The Heavens close their eyes

and weeped for days.

The Antevasin had arrived

The One who

was stuck
in between borders.

Like a tired passenger in

the airport waiting

for his luggage at Arrival,

your father folded his arms

and watched you slide

down from your mother.

Born at 06:19 am on a friday;

A mother’s little bundle of joy

and a father’s silent sigh...

'Ah a Girl'.

(Adulthood)

You grew into a flower

that refused to whither.

Your hair thick like the forest

your family's tree stemmed from.

Each strand like a branch

coiled from the root to the tip

refusing to bow to the standards of men.

At 19 your skin shined like polished wood.

Men forgot how to pronounce your name. 
Instead they referred 
to you as their cravings - chocolate, 

black coffee, butterscotch,

brown sugar, oroe.

You became an assortment for 
them to taste.  
A to do list for the

ones trying to explore.

Who said you were allowed to be

anything order than the black

that they painted you as?

Day and night,

you are reminded of

the walking juxtaposition

that you are.

A preacher’s worst nightmare,

a sinners sweetest dream

and a bigot’s biggest fear.

You are nothing but a stain,

an error born by mistake.

Who told you

that you were any different?

Look at you!

A mad mans’ little witch!

One day, he too will pack up

and leave you.

For you are too bold

you are too quick

Your accent

and thighs are too thick

the walls you built are too high

You are too proud

Your ego is in the sky

and 'Men do not like that'.

You Are A Woman, How Dare You?

You are a girl so
you must sit with your legs closed.
We do not want little boys to
go peering down your skirt
You are a girl so come inside
the house and watch your mother cook.
Watch how she scrubs off the
regrets off her gas stove.
Watch her morning and night,
how she washes off the
lies and secrets from her hair.
Watch how she carefully
fold her palms, day and night,
praying against the ghosts of everyone else’s past.

You are a woman so you must sit
but not for too long.
Your man will get hungry if you do.
He will need to be fed 3 times a day;
your body, your food and your soul.
You may talk but never about
being tired, being used or being free.
Don’t you know?
You were created only to be used
and discarded by men.

You are a woman so you should
Always make sure the man feels loved.
Feed him your life until you stop breathing.
Always praise his successes and never yours.
Gently stroke his ego until he forgets his failures.
Wrap yours up and hold them till your hands tremble.

Don’t you know you are a woman?
How dare you dream beyond men and babies?
How dare you dream of exploring?
Of endless possibilities and alternate universes?
How dare you breathe too loudly?
How dare you walk for too long?
How dare you work for too long?
How dare you put yourself before others?
Don’t you know you came to serve?
Just like your mother and her ancestors.

How dare you come back home liberated?
Have you forgotten the way to the kitchen?
Where are the keys we gave to you?
How dare you use them to unlock other doors?
Doors bigger than the ones we showed you.
How dare you?