The Workshop discussion

the beginning—
we were doubtful prayers whispered into the dark
staying up until two am
sneaking sips of wine at the dinner table.

your heart was iron
(impenetrable + impervious + indestructible)
while mine was weak
(soft + sensitive + easy to shatter)
a bitter fact: the story ends with a broken hearted girl
— the one with the soft soul.

age thirteen—
we were invincible as we kicked
our sneakers into the clouds
and caught stars in our fists.
we were
two girls who traveled to the sky,
but only in our daydreams.

age fifteen—
you wove stars into my hair while
we laid together on a hammock in the dark.
i drowned in the smell
of vanilla perfume and you told me
the latest gossip at school.

our worries were of boys
turning in late homework
and exams, but in the dark
we pointed out the stars
and leaned into each other's touch.
invincible.

the heartbreak—
you kissed me at the bus stop
and i knew i was colliding with the lips of
someone who had kissed strangers and boyfriends
and you knew you were colliding with the lips of
someone who only kissed you in her dreams.

you tasted of sin, i could taste
the melancholy dripping from your lips
and you could taste the innocence from mine.
my hands tangled in your hair woven with stars
your hands touched my waist.
we never spoke of it again.

question: how do you break a girl's heart?
answer: sneak through the crevices of her heart, overwhelm her with lingering gazes and gentle touches. bring your lips to hers, then pretend it never happened.

age sixteen—
you spoke of tales of
boys and condom wrappers,
parties and wine coolers.
i didn't have to ask
to know that you were
a main character in those stories.

we fell apart.
you didn't call back (i was studying)
you weren't there (i'm sorry)
you ignored my texts (i was busy)
where were you?

age seventeen—
we were strangers passing each other in the hall
sharing blank gazes and forcing ourselves
to look away.

i found you in my dreams,
in my thoughts during ap chemistry.
the strange, awful sadness
that you were once mine
but now you were gone
was enough to haunt me.

the end—
you no longer wore stars in your hair
and i no longer told you everything.
polite greetings stopped tumbling from your lips
i looked down whenever i saw you.
we were invincible strangers.

— you were never anyone's / j.m.

empty family dinners, silent prayers
(pass the salt, please)
this is how the world ends.

i watch my mother
pour the pills down the drain
and i watch my father,
silent and observing.

my sister, she tears her veins out
with the kitchen knife
while i sit quietly in the next room.
this is how the world ends.

with whispers at night (what to do with the broken girl?)
with slammed doors and screaming
so loud the neighbors peek out their front doors.

fuck you, i said a year ago,
venom and loathing in my voice.
i can still remember the slaps.
i still cry and flinch
when she comes near.
this is how the world ends.

an illusion of perfection
a reality of broken promises
yelling
lies
and threats.

my life isn't poetic, i say
and it isn't a tragedy.
but i really do hate it.

hiding in the bathroom
during fourth period,
i take out a cigarette
and with smoke
and nightmares
dripping out
i whisper with nicotine lungs
this is how the world ends.

my sister, she asks me
to hide her knives
i put them in my closet.

where are you from? they ask
(the kids from the whitewashed town
and the whitewashed country)
nowhere, i tell them.

can you speak the language? they ask
(the people from my country
who speak the language
i can't understand)
i am an impostor, i want to say.

i dream of
places i can't go
i drive but
i am still trapped.

my mother, she taught me
to say 'please' and 'thank you'
but she also taught me
how to hate myself.

my father, he never said a word at all.

my sister, she hides in her room
and i hide in mine
with tear-streaked cheeks
and trembling arms.

this is how the world ends:
with broken dreams
empty chairs
silent nights
and open veins.

— childhood recollections / j.m (via ghaffas)

she reminded me of
a summer breeze,
daisies, crystal lakes
and sunlight (brilliant sunlight)
pouring through
glass windows
thrown wide open.

her smile was one
of indecision and hesitance
but i immediately loved it anyway.
also: she had freckles splattered on her cheeks.

she looked my way
but i looked down
with a blush.
i turned the other direction.

for the rest of the hour
i wandered near her
with curiousity / awe
and i wondered how someone
could be so beautiful.
also: her hair looked soft (was it? probably)

i wanted to know her name
i wanted her to see me
but i hid from this ethereal stranger
that i happened to notice at a bookstore
(did she notice me?)
and buried my feelings.
also: her laugh was lovely.

i nearly ran into her
and an awkward smile
was frozen on my face
as i apologized quietly and left.
also: she smelled like lavender.

she held my favorite book (what was her favorite book?)
and i almost wanted to tell her (my name)
all about it (there’s a plot twist at the end)
but i didn’t (why didn’t i?)

teenage regrets / j.m

you were the boy who wanted to fly
she was the girl who painted the clouds
together, the two of you dreamed of
things only those with
wild / open / wanting souls
could imagine
(are you happy in your kingdom of dreams?)

it started like this:
you sat on the train
studying books of aircraft
when you saw the girl with
eyes full of wonder
and a wide grin
(you had the same wonder in your eyes
when you looked at her)

when the earth shook
with rage and force
and the wind screamed
and knocked down trees
you ignored the tremors
of fear in your chest
as you helped the girl
who dreamed of the sky
(you looked and you looked for her
after god rattled the earth
but the wind seemed to have swept her away)

years later
you still thought about her
but you had dreams of your own
to think about
(dreams of airplanes
dragging against clouds
and scraping the sky
with great metal wings)

the sound of metal
breaking from metal
and the crash
of a broken airplane
haunted you
(rejection & failure
screamed in your ear)

the wind brought you to her
and you made her paper airplanes
while she painted the trees for you
(you loved the way her brush
danced along the canvas
and she loved the way
you bent over blueprints
and equations, with your glasses
sliding down your nose)

you would have given the world to her
but no matter how many airplanes
you crafted for her
her bones grew weak
and dark bruises formed
under her eyes
(she was running out of time
as her blood painted the canvas)

it ended like this:
the wind carried her away
and your beautiful airplanes
that were supposed to take
people to the clouds
and to the stars
were used for destruction
(they dropped bombs
on sleeping children
and carried guns that would kill)

you were no longer the boy
who wanted to fly
and she was no longer
the girl who painted the clouds
you were only together in your dreams

you still search the sky for her / j.m

i grew up
in a whitewashed country
with whitewashed children
with their minds wired
to make racist comments


they tell me
to appreciate
the stereotypes laid out for me
(you’re a model minority, they say)
and the bullshit they spew in my face


but they also tell me
my eyes are too small
and they grab their eyes
and slant them upward
while mocking my language


my language
can i even call it that?
i can barely speak it
i am an imposter, a fake
they ask me where im from
and i dont know what to say
(i was raised in an orphanage
for the first two years of my life)
(i am from america)
(i am from china)
(i am from nowhere)


they reduce this beautiful language
to sounds and ching-chongs
and they ask me if i eat cats
(she’ll eat your dog, too)
they tell me all chinese people have bad teeth
and the one language they know about
is nothing but sounds
(i wish i could swallow my hatred
and bitterness
but i can only let it spill out)


dont they know?
there are tones
characters are not symbols
simplified vs traditional
it is mandarin chinese
there are hundreds of dialects
this language is beautiful
(i fell in love with it
i cannot speak it well
i am ashamed)
but america lets its children
turn it into sounds and jokes and
songs mocking the language
they don’t know anything about


they laugh at me
for telling them to stop
(the asian can talk)
(the asian isn’t submissive after all)
(aren’t asians socially awkward?)


they sexualize the women
(asian girls are hot)
and desexualize the men
(asian men have small penises)
why am i so terrified
of white men looking at me?
i am nothing i am no one i am sick of being sexualized
why am i a part of your asian fetish daydreams?


they turn my culture
into aesthetics and anime
and into fashion styles


they pronounce the cities wrong
open fortune cookies and congratulate
themselves for using chopsticks
they call me their token asian friend


every a+ i get
its because of my black hair
and my small eyes
and the country i was born in
(all asians are smart)


they look at the words
“made in china”
and crack a joke
about my country
i grind my teeth


they ask me
to speak the language
the beautiful language that they mock
and i want to say
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU
in english
loudly
clearly
and boldly
but i am quiet (not because i am chinese)
and i keep my mouth shut (because i will be laughed at, because i am chinese)


i am asked
countlessly
where am i ACTUALLY from
and i want to scream
NOWHERE NOTHING NO ONE
because no one
actually gives
a shit


they tell me
there is no such thing
as discrimination / prejudice / racism
against asians because
our usual stereotypes are positive
we are smart
we are successful
we are good at math


these words dont make me feel
smart
or successful
and i was never good at math anyway
these words make me want to
scream and
crush their insults in my fists

they tell me to appreciate this
but i can only hate it
and keep myself silent
because no one cares
it’s just a joke, of course

one day i will learn to love the things they laugh at / j.m

your father taught you
how to count
with his fists


words you learned
how to spell first
were
failure
disgrace
disappointment


then you met
a king
who was destined
for greatness
(you wondered what you were destined for)
who was on a quest
(what do you know about welsh kings?)


when you met the dreamer
he was a snake
(he was a broken shell of a boy)
his eyes were dangerous
and raw and angry and sharp
but they softened for you
when you weren’t looking


you were a boy
who wanted to be
something more
while he was a boy
who wanted to be
something else
you were a magician
he was a dreamer


you learned to count again
with ‘i love you’s and hungry
wanting kisses at night


maybe the dreamer
wasn’t so broken
after all, and
maybe you were
slowly learning
what being wanted felt like

you learned what loving felt like, too / j.m

she exhanges stolen kisses
with you underwater
and the voices above
are just disorted sounds
(you can’t like a girl, the voices say)

i don’t like a girl, i love a girl
you want to say back
but you keep silent

you would rather stay
underwater for eternity
then go back to
a world of harsh voices
and critical stares
(besides, to drown for her
would be a pleasure)

swimming pools / j.m