"Don’t get married."
She tells me,
Her eyes are glassy
Underneath
The cabin lights.
I see her pain reflecting
In her iris’.
“I was with him for 
4 years before.
I thought 
I knew him.”
At that very moment,
I see myself
In white.
I feel the heat 
Of blush 
In my cheeks
And I see him,
Smiling a goofy smile
And anxiously awaiting me
Like always.
But I stop
Waltzing down the aisle
When I realize
Who I am.
I am made up 
Of two strands
Of wicked DNA.
I have inherited
My mother’s eyes,
Her sharp tongue,
And my father’s 
Stubbornness.
Surely, somewhere,
I have inherited
His abandonment,
Her fiery temper,
And his blunt ways.
I see my wired lips
Every time my love,
My partner,
Tells me to speak 
But I can’t.
Because nothing
Seems to be enough.
But, perhaps,
I am still being haunted 
By old and dusty ghosts.
The sun tells me
That I am good,
That my shadows
Are simply thus.
He says that I
Have made him
Return to the sky.
How can I be
So wonderful?
The sun’s rays
Assure me
I am so.
I may have chaos
In my blood,
But my bones
Are my own.
I see us
Laughing in red rooms,
Working hard to
Come home
And simply
Be.
We both exist
In the same space,
The same orbit,
And we are
Equal.
“Do you think
He respects me?”
My mother asks
With emotion 
clouding her voice.
But I do not answer.
I think only
Of the sun