Crippling conversations, words stagnant and rancid on the tongue
Examen every corner of the cafe, occasionally outlining your features
the strand of hair poking out of your head, defying attempts to tame it, taunts me
I can’t help but fixate on the stories your hands illustrate, as they dance in the air, as if I am blind to the image of a classroom
It’s not that you lack intrigue, I assure you
Your anecdotes of high school friends amuse me,
Yet, I had envisioned you with a broader essence,
A presence more capable of cradling my sorrows.
You appear too delicate to bear the weight of my pain, and I wonder if that unruly strand of hair would pierce my mother’s eyes
The letters of your name, foreign to my ancestral roots, leave me pondering how to translate our interactions
Though I pray for our connection to align, my focus lingers on the missing fragments,
The ones that do not reside within you.
Can you fathom the fate that befalls souls like yours?
Your voice fades into the backdrop, blending with the ashen walls,
I struggle to reel myself back into the present moment,
A persistent tug at the recesses of my mind,
While my guardian angels bow in pity.
Privileged boys are consumed in my household, so how would you defend yourself against my parents?
How would you brush off my mother’s disapproving stares and my father’s profound disappointment?
I cannot fault them for not wishing to see you again,
And can you truly blame me?
I tap the edge of the table, syncing with the ticking of your clock,
I had convinced myself that things could evolve,
Perhaps if I strain my vision, I could shape your eyes
To mirror my own,
Burying our shared memories beneath the pillows,
Even if they remain concealed.
How would I awaken to the presence of my oppressor, my colonizer,
Seemingly at ease on my grandmother’s delicate embroidered linens,
As she wails from the realms of heaven?
You call out my name, snapping your fingers,
Ripping me away from my thoughts,
“Are you okay?”
I don’t know how to respond, the taste is insipid,
You,
You taste so acrid.
Do you understand what befalls souls like yours?
Their heads become trophies adorning the walls of my ancestral abode,
A constant reminder of my lapse,
And my longing refuses to shield you or show mercy,
Your features haunt my parents’ dreams,
As they wander around my statue,
Begging for guidance.
I love you, I truly do.
(But I don’t)
I simply believe it’s time we explore other paths.
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Welcome
Thank you!
Good stuff.
Anxious Thoughts
Navigating life’s uncertainties, one word at a time
Anxious Thoughts 
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