speaking arabic backwards.

today i thought that i would see you flutter your eyelids at me, batting those big, beautiful eyelashes that you always knew i was jealous of. but instead you just looked at me like i was speaking arabic backwards again.

i almost cried when you told me you'd gone grocery shopping
but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.



you always hold my hand when i'm thinking in anecdotes.



i can still remember yesterday, when we shuffled through the park in shoes that were too big and skin that was too small, bursting with something that i couldn't name in english. my first language is my worst language.

i think that we live on a merry-go-round.


your voice reminds me of a calliope
and every week is exactly the same.
it was typical of us to miscommunicate.



i keep my belongings in your paper grocery bags and roll the tops down so that you can't see what's inside. one holds the shards of what used to be my heart, but don't count on finding it. i play finders keepers.






tomorrow i think we'll go to the park.