crumbs

In some cultures, the women eat

Only after the men have had their fill

What's left are the smallest pieces of meat

Curry leaves and rampe in gravy

The rice cooked by the women cold and hard by then

But when you are used to only having what is left over

You learn to accept without protest whatever is sent your way

No matter how abysmal

Even when your plate is empty

And you go to bed hungry

it is what it is

daisies to the sun

moths to flame

ants to sugar

you to another

and me?

alone.

Word of the day: Heliotropic

turning or growing toward the light

Approximate

how much time do you think we have

before we tire of each other

will we get bored in a month or two

or is the end just around the corner?

if you had to guess how fondly we'll look back at our time together

on a scale of one to ten, would your estimate be closer to

one (taking a big gulp of milk that is horribly sour, its aftertaste lingering all day) or

ten (licking the spatula clean after making a massive bowl of chocolate pudding)?

Word of the day: Approximate

to estimate

What this girl dreams of

Oh to take the train to a villa in Galle and relax by the beach

A pool just calling to you, while someone cooks one delicious meal after another

To take a cab back from Colombo after a night out

Down a cocktail or two before ordering a bottle for the table

Going from pub to pub, ending the night with karaoke

Forget all of that

But just ordering a delicious chocolate cake

Covered in a generous layer of boozy ganache

Taking your pick from an endless spread of seafood and meat and breads and more

A steaming hot pizza delivered to your doorstep, pairing it with a glass of wine

Oh to be happy and free of worry

Word of the day: Ganache

A whipped frosting or filling made with semisweet chocolate and cream,

used for cakes, pastries, and candies

life.

My mother tells me that my hair looks nice

"He did a good job trimming it"

My curls have settled well, she says

I smile in response, too ashamed to admit that

My hair gets this way when I don't bathe every other day

And I don't remember the last time I had a bath

Whenever I do decide that today,

I will wash my hair, shave my legs

Put on an outfit that doesn't look like a sack

A tiredness falls over me and I instead have a quick wash

And go back to bed

I share a picture of my cat with a friend and tell her

I can't post it online because I have promised myself I won't until I'm no longer sad

It feels like a threat to my brain:

You either get your shit together or lose the one outlet you have to vent

So far, it hasn't worked. I don't tweet. But I'm still sad

The truth is, I started hating myself, this person I've become

Always so tired and angry and sad and awful

I didn't want to spend another minute with myself

And the thing about hating yourself is that

You can never escape yourself

You don't need to tell me this is selfish, because I am aware

But I desire company just so I can be held

So I can rest my head on a shoulder, hold a hand that doesn't let go

To remind myself that I am still here

Still breathing, still present in this moment

You also don't need to tell me that this will pass, like everything else,

Things will get better, I just need to hold on until then

I am aware. I know.

But that doesn't make it any easier.

Bumbling idiot

I swipe right on someone who has swiped right on me

And the app gives me a 24-hour window to make a move

But how do you start a conversation with a stranger

You have no actual desire to date

Perhaps I should open a bottle of wine

Get sufficiently tipsy

Put on something on Netflix

Forget the app and instead have a nap