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.