Coming Home to You

 

I hated you so very much.

You, who was most damaged by our ordeal

Was so cruelly rejected by me and neglected.

I could barely think about you,

Let alone touch you.

 

I remember wanting to carve you out.

Make myself protected,

Impenetrable.

I blamed you.

For being so weak and easily broken into.

 

I blamed you for everything.

Because of you

I’m not given equality in this world.

My Mother’s drops of Indian Gypsy blood made it bad enough

But You, You made it worse.

 

You did your part too

In this feud.

You fought back each month 

With blood.

Even before this happened.

 

But after our traumatic event

You and your fury fucked me up even more

Cramps, clots, careless.

You didn’t give me any peace

Forcing me to face you each month so painfully.

 

It’s nature isn’t it?

Each month, letting me know You’re there

Funny because it’s nature that brought us back together.

You and I.

Desire.

 

Is there anything more natural than desire?

Wanting. Curiosity. Lust.

Wanting yourself seems forbidden. 

Presumptuous and indulgent. 

But isn’t nature all of those things?

Apples ending Eden. 

Feelings ending our distance.

I touched You out of love for the first time in an age.

 

Now, I feel you

I see you

I share you

I love you.

You’re my special place—my private space,

My flower of flesh.

 

Cyrine Sinti is a Writer and Dancer. She loves sharing her German and Gypsy cultures through fiction. Cyrine has been published in Crepe & Penn, Periwinkle Lit Mag, Analogies & Allegories Lit Mag, Poetically Magazine, Walled City Journal, Small Leaf Press, and others. She can be found under any full moon, or online @CyrineSinti.