reflection there’s the farce of flowers in my throat, as pleading stops short on my tongue and begs for the loud parts of me—the ones on fire for what i have not yet seen, declared to be the weaknesses in my heart. i find love letters of strangers pocketed in an abundance of torn jeans from years of cacophonous silences, as sunless memories break free from the nightlights i trapped them in with the pink hands of childhood. memories scowl from a distance and youth plays my words like a stringless violin; tune caught in the doorhandle as i turn the corner too quick. forgetfulness pins me down to the bed but it's vain in practice, unable to kick the fact that there will always be the taste of butter in my mouth—playfulness turned sour to make me think that i’m in love. i paint myself with godless confidence until i can’t tell if i've even got a crown; so sink me down to my knees—don’t let me pretend that i know how to breathe; like i’ve got a friend in the world who’s enough for me. let me go to take the lead; i’ll try hard not to make it about me, leaving lovemarks on passion as i go; pride engulfing my need to show that i am whole. i’m hiding truth in the medicine cabinet, praying with my hands clasped underneath the dinner table; i’m reeling with a childhood speak that won’t reveal me as the freak i feel—a little girl hoarding melodrama and scrambling to keep up with the fear. but you don’t have to worry, my dear; i’ll breathe my own mania under the dances you share with me, and i’ll keep my lungs quiet when you pull me to your chest, under the cover of our sea.
David Esquivel / Aurora & Le Quyen Nguyen / Berlin
- Turi Sioson / Austin