Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Keshvare Aziz

I miss my home.
Not the one I sit in now, but my real home.
The one I have never seen, the one that costs so many a sacrifice.
The sacrifice of altering their values in the eyes of its society,
But in their own eyes, it is worth growing up in their old neighbourhood,
Where their remnants of childhood replay as memories:
Once upon a time they sat on their father's lap as they watched the red-hatted puppet on TV,
They spent their summer days running along the street canals with cousins in a game of tag,
After school they emptied their backpacks to unwrap the sweet candies they bought at the store.

As they grew up, their rebellion placed them in the basements of their friends' homes,
The house music and rap playing in the background.
Flirting and playing love games with one another,
Knowing that this was the only place they could pretend to be somewhere else.
First love blossomed under the cherry tree that blooms white in the spring,
The potential threat of being caught thrilled them, their attraction growing stronger towards each other.

Photographs brought here from my real home,
I am barely in any of them.
"Oh you weren't born yet," they say as they turn to each other,
They begin reminiscing with dreamy smiles on their faces,
My jealousy grows as I hear of their great childhood,
Mine was only mediocre as it lacked a sense of heritage.
The sense of growing up surrounded by family,
Nosy to know what you're up to,
But also the ones who threw picnics on Fridays in the park,
Excessive food, laughter, and happiness,
For a moment, oblivious to the reality surrounding them.

I remember as a child I would scream at my mother with fresh tears on my face,
Demanding to move back to my beloved home,
But deep inside, I always felt the gratitude of avoiding the harshness I could have faced,
The feeling of being trapped in the own familiarity of friends and family,
Not being able to tell who was looking at you and who was watching you.

I am glad I did not grow up with a second personality,
The slyness that develops in order to protect myself and my family,
Here, I never hesitate to put my arm around my best friend,
Or second guess the words out of my mouth,
Here, I am safer than I would be in my real home.

Yet, I miss what I have not laid my eyes upon.
I miss what I've heard about, or seen in stories, pictures and movies.
Proud of its rich history and elegance.
Through all of its obstacles, it stands strong but at the same time remains delicate.
The hole in my heart is growing, the voidance yearning for a fill.
I didn't know I could feel homesick for a place I know nothing about.
My beautiful home that I have never seen,
My beautiful home that has never seen me.

I miss my home.


There is no doubt in my mind that you talk about me to your "friends",
I put it in quotations because I am never certain who your friends are,
You are always changing them, attaching yourself and spilling your secrets,
Who knows if you're spilling mine too.

Every inch of my body reassures me that I did the right thing,
Leaving your mind games and excessive internal dilemmas,
I live a peaceful life now; free of worry.
You think I left you because of him,
But he was solely an excuse.

I left your manipulative, sly, and dishonest ways,
You pretended to be harmless and gentle,
But only a mind reader would be able to decipher what your real motives were,
You entered my heart in the disguise of a friend,
But I should have looked down to see your poorly hidden claws.

You have the nerve to be nice to me and pretend like nothing is wrong,
You should know me well enough to know that maybe a year ago I would have fallen for it,
But my innocence no longer carries its naivety,
I am stronger now and though I have lost more along the way,
I am prepared to stand alone than stand as part of your plastic collection.

I am not afraid of what you tell your new friends,
I love myself too much to let that bother me,
Unlike you, I do not allow negativity to control me,
To be honest, I'm not really sure if those things really happened to you.

I am happy you have moved on and left me to be,
But you should fret the poison you surround yourself with now.
You are capable of competing with them, but you are not capable of winning against them.
I wish you luck, but I am glad I stopped myself before becoming like you.
If I had not stopped myself, you would have made sure I would become you.

Have fun trying to figure out what I'm like now,
But you will never hear it from me.
Enjoy reading this and realizing it's about you.

**Note: This post contains a lot of hate, but it was needed to be said. I don't usually attack people like this, but I felt the need to fight with my best weapon: my words. I promise that there will not be any more negativity on my blog for a long time! :-)


It was only for one night,
But I still remember his hands intertwined with mine.
He pulled me towards him while he reached for the light.

Earlier, I was loud and bold,
Smiling and laughing with those around me, turning on my charm and flirting around,
But when he said something to me, I turned into the shy introvert I sometimes am.
I tried to be nonchalant, my guard up,
Building the wall around me that nobody could break down,
But I didn't have a clue as to what I would be feeling later on in the night.

I giggled as he embraced me again,
With every single touch, my shyness resided a little more.
He looked at me and said, "You're beautiful",
but if he only knew the beauty that grew inside me when I looked at him.
The butterflies danced inside me, as if they fluttered to be released.
I smiled at him, flattered, and kissed him on the cheek.

My skin felt alive, sensations all over my body tingling with excitement,
I have never felt such a spark, not even with the one before him.
We exchanged secrets and promised to always remember,
It made me feel closer to him until the next time.
I have not stopped missing him, but he has not stopped feeding his pride.

What he does not realize is that I have pride too,
And in this game I am determined to win.
We will cross paths again, I'm sure of it.
When the time comes, I will be angry, and I will challenge him.
Once again showing my nonchalance, while my insides beg him to fight.
Until that day, I will long for him.
Nobody can compare to him.
He cast a spell on me in just one night.

Until next time.