Diana Poems
Indulged Not happy You have everything I have nothing I get excited You pretend to be I cry of joy You cry of laughter Indulged You have everything I have nothing I am thankful You are flattered I feel loved You feel lonely You have everything Yet you have nothing |
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I think of the whiteness of snow on a postcard from an immigrant aunt. How sweet, how pure and unreal like props in a high-school play. The closest I have seen of it is crushed ice on halo-halo. Why do I end up speaking of white things? I feel blond - bleached and painted over. But this is how I speak: misted over with a foreign flavor but in essence a native blend of brown and yellow. I think of how you must have shivered in the European snow, words warm in your heart. I wonder if you dreamt in Spanish. Perhaps we dreamt the same dream, our incandescent souls glowing beneath the translucent veils of tongues-to-suit-our-needs. We were born in a land of two seasons, not four, unused to and awed by words like: autumn, winder, spring. I think of snow and how it melts into a gray-tinged slush, how these words of ours will melt with the heat of what we really mean. But I think we wear our costumes well. If it is cold we have to put our coats on but it will always be with our skins that we feel |