wrinkles in my sheets

I’m used to being alone.

Only child in an empty house.

Quiet afternoons home from school.

Warm afternoon light streaming through blinds

to paint stripes across a silent family room.

Over time, I’ve made friends with the wrinkles in my sheets.

I’m not used to being alone in college.

One of four in a messy apartment.

Busy afternoons home from class.

Neon street lights streaming through blinds

to splash color over a crowded living room.

My friends stay over to sleep on the wrinkles in my sheets.

I’m not used to being alone with you.

One half of the occupants of an empty bedroom.

Quiet evenings home from Valentine's Day dinner.

Cold morning light streaming through blinds 

to illuminate your sleeping form.

Your body is covering the wrinkles in my sheets.

, set, go

 is a false start, like

when you tripped on me in the first 200 yards

of college, and your foot caught on mine,

fumbling over your words when you told me,

i like you a lot

and our laces were tied, single knotted,

running in tandem, footsteps matched and smooth

for the next 1800 yards,

until the knots started to chafe

and the trails we passed by caught on your shirt,

pulling your attention away, away,

while i pulled you back to our path,

each time loosening our ties until finally

breaking apart, muddy trodden laces streaming,

your back disappearing amongst

the chrysanthemums lining the trail,

because i have always

and you have never been — ready.

The Only Difference Between Us Is 34 Years and a Language Barrier

Inspired by Tiana Clark’s “My Therapist Wants to Know about My Relationship to Work”

I love you.

I hate you.

I become

You.

I am the product of

generations. You remind me.

You carry me on your shoulders.

I carry you on my shoulders. I

grow up with your love — I have new clothes.

I have cut fruit. I have clean room.

I have neat bed. I have

grown up with your love — I buy new clothes.

I cut my fruit. I clean my room.

I make neat bed. I love

learning piano when no one is watching.

I love learning when no one is watching.

I math when no one is watching. I code.

I chores. I physics, writing, piano,

achievement when you are not watching.

Your eyes turn to me, play five times over, faster!

Disappointment when you are watching.

I carry your expectations. I drop them.

Then flaunt them. Then lose them. Pick them up again. Five times over!

You are not watching me. I swallow them.

I crush them in my esophagus. They taste

Like near perfect gaokao grades and

shiny piano trophies.

dated: july 2020

 how powerful is a picture?

green and blue pixels, bright against the screen

leaves unmoving and yet softly they sway with the breeze

july 2020 is balmy and dry

as always, summers in the bay are comfortable

afternoon sun rays flash through the branches

through the window of my tiny phone screen

through my fingers outstretched, reaching for wisps of hair

laughter floats over the crunch of shoes running over gravel

a myriad of memories captured in an empty park

three friends, three puffy clouds in a cerulean sea

summer after high school is a blink in time

oak leaves fall like glitter in a snow globe

the camera flashes once

snap

the moment replays indefinitely

quotes i like [11]

"I was burning, while you came blaming me for the smell of ashes."

~

Dostoevsky

in another universe

my photo is sitting in your wallet

you are grabbing a shopping cart

and i am running inside to tap the watermelons

flower arrangement

Orchid in a vase

Delicate petals fanned in gradient

Elegant stem curved against the glass

Buds around me at carefully staggered heights

Shades of violet, magenta, soft lilac

Centerpiece of your kitchen

Roots trimmed off in a pretty tapered point

Leaves snipped for uniformity

I'm living the best of my bloom

Gratefully drinking the sink water you give me

In three days my petals will be in cracked pieces

Under your shoe

❀

rice cooker

Rice in the pot is warm and fragrant

In my bowl it's nourishing and filling

I smell the rice cooker before my mom calls for dinner

Sometimes she adds brown ice, purple rice, grains, sweet potato

Rice in the pot is always cooking by the time school ends

It's ready for me when I finish my homework

I miss its little songs and my mom's footsteps on our kitchen's linoleum floor

𓎩

i and you, you and i

i don't know how to ask (for love)

i cling to your shirt sleeve when you leave in the morning

i don't know how to force the words past my tongue (thank you)

you tuck my hair behind my ears and quietly wash the dishes

you read the words that live in my head (i love you)

your palms are warm when you hand me cups of tea

kernels

Push me down, pry me apart

– Open wider, baby –

Tear me at the seams

Drink the nectar like water

– So wet –

Wider, wider, split down the middle

Crunch on my pieces and chew on my pride

– I love you –

Suck the kernels dry

Is a pomegranate a person?