my girl

The original text is far from my own, Junot Diaz is a Dominican-American writer who I admire very deeply. I've chosen to take a story from his collection //This is How You Lose Her// in order to formulate a set of poems about my struggle to feel as though I am only one person, as though I am not on and another pushed into one body stretching at it's seams. So, anyway, here's the [[table of contents:->TABLE OF CONTENTS]]

table of contents 2: [[//my knuckle//->poem 1.2]] [[//redemption//->poem 3.2]] [[//she//->poem 5.2]] [[//half-moon scar//->poem 7.2]] [[//us//->group three together]] Read full story here: https://featuredartistnetwork.com/uploads/Nilda_by_Junot_Diaz.pdf

I'm bad but basically good a girl, a freestyle, a fucking drunk. I place my knuckle in her mouth. [[second poem in //me//->PAGE 2]]

I'm sorry I'm thinking she cannot be me. [[third poem in //me//->PAGE 3]]

I don't want curteous shouting lights like the day after tomorrow jumped in us like redemption. [[final poem in //me// 4->PAGE 4]]

I want this, take my word I warned her about it. [[table of contents->TABLE OF CONTENTS]]

She's big mouth, big hair and forgiving. A Sunday sick sister-shit-she is everything rapproachement momentum //why don't you leave me?// [[second poem in //her//->PAGE 6]]

She's crossword puzzles and denim skirts, a girl that fit perfect in me. [[third poem in //her//->PAGE 7]]

Stiff, she's got a half-moon scar rich like our history. [[fourth poem in //her//->PAGE 8]]

Earth is cave, voice light and odd, beautiful. She shantie she is memory, she is beginning. [[fifth poem in //her//->PAGE 9]]

Topiaries of the masses chill my sister to molasses. [[sixth poem in //her//->PAGE 10]]

Reading me casual sometimes I turn too animal half shame. [[seventh poem in //her//->PAGE 11]]

//Please, you're a star Tú sí eres bella messanger of love// she says-- [[eighth poem in //her//->PAGE 12]]

Red devil-her fucking boca-she insisted I listen. [[table of contents->TABLE OF CONTENTS]]

She begged I try. [[second poem in //us//->PAGE 14]]

Both her and I remember the red reconciliation //We didn't come here to feel.// [[third poem in //us//->PAGE 15]]

We commit pressure to commit like vomit deep down. [[fourth from in //us//->PAGE 16]]

Late and cool in waves so fast I dance with her. She recieved me as her dog. [[fifth poem in //us//->PAGE 17]]

I flapjack to see her love her more, more battered fool. [[sixth poem in //us//->PAGE 18]]

She looks like my whole country. She is overload beached like philosophy. An inability to communicate. //I just wish you'd say you love me.// [[seventh poem in //us//->PAGE 19]]

Swarm, biblical I want her to hold me again //again.// [[eighth poem in //us//->PAGE 20]]

The truth: She was the stars made coffee late and kissed God like He was me. [[ninth poem in //us//->PAGE 21]]

We were family eating together with her folks they like that I treat her good. [[tenth poem in //us//->PAGE 22]]

She was priority, she was real, she cut her hair the June heat eating her. [[eleventh poem in //us//->PAGE 23]]

I love her knickknacks, her favorite questions, her honesty, no matter how stupid and unreal. [[table of contents->TABLE OF CONTENTS]]

//my knuckle// I'm bad but basically good a girl, a freestyle, a fucking drunk. I place my knuckle in her mouth and wait to feel her bite down she waits until I drip blood to let go. I think in moments like this we fight each other the most. We wish to be completely separate I wish to forget her face in my mirror

//redemption// I don't want curteous shouting lights like the day after tomorrow jumped in us with redemption on the brain. I don't want her forgiveness, I don't want her at all. We wish to fall apart, each minute I beg for freedom more, more but she stays and I am constantly dissatisfied.

//she// She's big mouth, big hair and forgiving. A Sunday sick sister-shit-she is everything rapproachement momentum //why don't you leave me?// I ask her in my sleep, she jostles me awake, my blood filling my gaping mouth through the holes bitten into my cheeks.

//half-moon scar// Stiff, she's got a half-moon scar rich and thick with tissue. It looks like our history the way the skin bubbles keloiding in some places she covers it with sleeves and prays one day we fade into nothing more than the keloid on the inside of her elbow.

//us// She begged I try. Both her and I remember the red reconciliation //We didn't come here to feel.// but we commit pressure to commit like vomit deep down in the backs of our throats. Late and cool in waves so fast I dance with her. She recieves me as her dog because I flapjack for her, to see her love her more, more a battered fool. She looks like my whole country. She is overload beached like philosophy. An inability to communicate. //I just wish you'd say you love me.// and I swarm, quasi-biblical I want her to hold me again, //again.// But here's the truth: She was the stars made us coffee late and kissed God like He was me. We were family eating together with her folks, cause they like that I treat her good, that she was my priority. To me she was real, she cut her hair the June heat eating her up. and I love her. Knickknacks, questions, and honesty, no matter how stupid and unfathomable she is.