HOMESICK FOR ANOTHER WORLD

Apparently our  respective Gods hate each other and as devoted followed we should do that too.

May be we are succeeding in that because we don't talk of books anymore. 

You don't tint my rosy cheeks in blue with your kisses.

And I am feeling every crack of your absence in my breath and trying to hold my pieces together.

I am homesick of another world where my mother is reading me the stories of princesses who are not waiting for stranger princes to save them. 

Where good girls never keep quiet.

Where there are grocery stores with strawberry ice creams.

Where there are no grandma's to gift you a comprehensive guide to be a good house wife.

Where V-necked short dresses fly without fear. 

Where there are no blank notebooks with paranoid metaphors.

Where there is no one to move us in two lines distinguished by vagina and penis.

Where I don't have to hide my artist's razor.

Where there are nights we taste blooming lips.

Where we dress in roses and sing Hozier at the top our lungs.

Where we smile still our cheeks hurt. 

Where am a better daughter. 

Where you are not like your father.

Where there is love, 

not wretched humans.

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