AT SEVEN,
fear was the shape of a rectangle,
It was the shape of the scar on my chin after I fell from my bicycle,
the shape of the broken geometry box that Santa had gifted me.
AT NINE,
fear was the shape of stars,
the shape of the prints on my pajama
As my neighbour told me over a shared plate of cookies and a glass full of tears.
how her mom was now a star.
AT ELEVEN,
fear was the shape of a heart that's breaking into two
It was the shape of dimples on my best friends cheeks,
as she laughed at the jokes of her new best friend
AT THIRTEEN,
fear was the shape of circles,
It was the shape of the lips of my bully as he hooted at me from behind
the shape of the eyes of the strangers on the street as they stared at my underdeveloped breasts.
AT FIFTEEN,
fear was the shape of triangles,
It was the shape of samosas and the Realization that fat was no more a thing i had,
but a thing I was.
AT SEVENTEEN,
fear was the shape of ovals,
it was the shape of the bubbles on my OMR,
as I filled them till they were pitch black, exactly like my future seemed.
TODAY, AT NINETEEN,
fear is the shape of a square,
the shape of a thick comforter strangling me on a summer afternoon.
the shape of the boxes on my calendar as I cross off yet another day,
my breath stuttering before escaping my mouth,
The shape of the empty paper in front of me.
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