I Don’t Really Want You

I DON’T really want you.

Yes, you’re pretty, and sure, you may be talented, but I don’t really want you.

The thing is, I want you the way a kid wants a toy when she’s at a toy store. I want you the way a New Yorker wants a taxi cab. And I want you the way someone on Wall Street wants a promotion.

You see where I’m going with this? You don’t want me wanting you this way. Because in my eyes, you’re no different than the scarf that I wear when it’s cold outside or the like the string on our lamp that I flick on when it’s too dark to see. Basically, you’re way too convenient and accessible to me.

We were never meant to be together; you’re wild and free and I’m tamed and isolated. What we need is something that looks nothing like the two of us. Go! Run far away from here. Don’t look back. There’s nothing here for you to see.

I can’t even tell you the last time I felt something real. Was it yesterday? Was it way back when I was on the public transportation staring out of the window? Or was it that time when I saw two gay couple caressing each other’s faces on the subway? I can’t remember. Is this really the type of person that you want to be with?

You don’t need me falling in love with you because if I do you will never know what my true feelings are. I would hide my emotions from you the way a guilty child hides from her parents. I would run emotional circles around you until you tire out.

You don’t need someone like me. I’m too scared to open up. What you need is someone who is full of oxygen, someone who’s nostrils can open up wide to smell your scent from miles away. You need someone who is full of life and who’s not afraid to dance like no ones’ watching.

Are you still listening? No, no, no! you’re making a mistake—–

“Excuse me, buddy, but your wife is waiting outside. She want’s to know if you’re finished with your vows.”

Photo by Gilles Lambert on Unsplash


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I never asked to be poor,

I never asked to shake the hands of death so soon,

I never asked to see this naked shore and smell its intoxicating perfumes.

I always wanted to be rich,

I always wanted to shake the hands of the one percent,

I always wanted to ditch this wretched world of mine to the very end.

If I exchange my pain for happiness, how much will I earn?

If I approach the precipice of sorrow, will I jump or will I be still?

If God is aware of my unbound suffering, then I think it’s goodwill for him to adjourn?

Faith is the only currency that I can afford,

The taste of poverty is bitter but I must continue my pursuits of something sweeter,

I must cut the cord of pity if I wish to someday be a lotus-eater.

The definition of a Lotus-eater: A person who spends time indulging in pleasure and luxury, rather than dealing with practical concerns. Thus, my attempt with this aforesaid poem was to flip that definition around by giving—a practical and unpleasurable issue like poverty—a lot of attention. Furthermore, in trying to achieve the latter parabasis, I made sure to touch upon some of the concerning issues/associations of poverty—like, death, the desire to be rich, faith, suffering, time, etc.


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Happy Father’s Day, Dad

the fam part 2

Happy Father’s Day my pillar of hope and lighthouse of bright smiles.

Happy Father’s Day you strong and consistent figure of forthrightness.

Happy Father’s Day our ex-military minded father. Our creative and meticulous disciplinarian.

Happy Father’s Day to a man whose love knows no bound. Who would give you the shirt off his back even it meant that he would have to shiver all the way home.

Happy Father’s Day to a man that has taught me to value education more than anything else in the world. A man that has witnessed, more than my fingers can count, the revolving doors of opportunities—as a result of reading and intellectual snoopiness.

Happy Father’s Day to a man whose unusual sense of humor left his children laughing for many, long and incalculable hours.

Happy Father’s Day to a man that I aspire to be someday.

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