on cold nights, curled in our blankets and huddled together: our shoulders pressed together and laughter ringing out, ears tinged with red. i take your hand, carefully, secretly, my heart pounding so surely i think you must hear it. starting with a finger against yours. a brush of skin; something could be written accidental. my heart pounds harder. a second try: this time, more sure, with purpose, the back of my hand bumping against yours. something that can’t be explained away and my heart is so loud. i close my eyes. but i can still hear my heart. i think you might reject me, and i can’t make the leap, the back of my hand just rests against yours, but then — you complete it. you clasp my hand completely, so tightly, i startle. you make it so easy that i feel so silly for ever feeling nerves.

you’re grinning. cheeks squished; eyes like crescent moons. “what was that?” you ask, and i feel so ridiculous. we are already so close, crushed in this small space of our bed and yet, i was hesitating if i could hold your hand. i laugh.

“I don’t know,” i say.

you shake your head and i laugh harder. i draw my face closer, and still: despite the ridiculous, the knowledge i can cross this distant and you won’t turn your head, despite the knowledge i am allowed, i hesitate. and like before, you make the last move. you close the distance, and press your lips against yours. warmth. a pleasant feeling spreads all over me and it feels like my heart burst.

you’re grinning when i move back.

“what was that?” you ask.

this time, i feel more shy. “um,” I say. “i am not good at this type of thing.”

“I can see. so what type of thing are you good at?”

….this, perhaps, i think. loving you.

being right here: next to you, feeling the skin of your hand in mine and the heart of mine feeling like it might burst out of my ribs. seeing your face, hearing your voice and every part of my body loving you. loving you, the same thing as sitting next to you. the easiest thing. i couldn’t not love you, if i tried, i think.

you turn, suddenly, into a bright flush. all of your confidence and grin disappearing so quick into a flustered and i’m confused. then, oh — i realise. i turn into the same flustered mess as you. oh god, i can’t believe myself. i just said that out of loud, didn’t i?”

“….did you hear all of that?” my voice is a whisper: unable to bear the truth of that thought.

you nod, and damn. that’s really embarrassing. i duck my head. i am sure i look like I’ve been dunked in red paint. my hand is staring to sweat. so embarrassing, i think, again. “well,” I say, barely a murmur, “there. what I can do.” i can’t muster the strength to lift my head to look at you. i grip your hand tighter. i’m so curious of what expression you are making but still, i can’t lift my head.

i think maybe you’ll gently touch my chin and force it up. i hope. you don’t. so i have to make the last leap, this time: slowly, i lift my head and peak up and… oh, what a delight, i think. what a sight. how beautiful.

you’re still wearing that flustered expression, red all over and it feels like there’s confidence surging in me: I catch your eye and draw closer, closing what distance is there between us and kiss and kiss and kiss you. once, I am content, I pull back and smile brightly.

“I love you.” I say, confidently.

“….I love you, too,” you grumble back, a little later, voice a mumble that it’s hard to pick exactly what you said, but I hear it clear. my smile widens. I laugh.

“I love you,” I repeat and surely, I think, right now, at any moment, my heart is going to burst out of my chest for real.

The train engine can never see its own face. The knowledge weighs heavy on it, how is it to move endless carts, how is it to push forward miles and miles, if it can't recognize itself?

The train engine weeps, spits smoke and coal, and shrieks. (And yet it moves). It asks the engineer, how could you do this? It asks him, where are we going? The forest only grows as I keep going, the trees don't let me see. The branches rub against my face, face I cannot see, and they leave raindrops on my cheeks. I've used up so much coal on my crying, I don't think I'm arriving on time. I don't think I can use much more before something breaks.

The train engineer is silent. For when he looks at the train engine, he sees his own face. (And yet, he drives). He pushes the accelerator; he tries to keep a steady hand. The forest only grows darker as he looks back, the rails can only move them forward. The possibility of stepping down and walking back never crosses his mind, he would like to think he is helpless because that means he's making the right choice. After all, he's meeting people on the road. He's painting, he sometimes writes. He could get promoted soon, perhaps get the wheels fixed. He just wishes the engine would let him sleep. He just wishes all those things would be enough, that the engine, that himself, could be enough. It all feels so close. Miles away. For now, all they can see is forest.

sad lesbians in movies

lonely mornings that are sunny and golden

sitting in the middle of a group of laughing teenagers

a local cat's disappearance

death of a beloved character

certain poems read out loud

thinking about my best friend crying

my best friend getting on a plane

being ghosted

emily dickinson's letters to susan gilbert

the library of alexandria

taylor swift's new album

college applications

carrying too many bags at once

my little brother

someone asking if i'm okay

getting catcalled

reading about women's rights

a slow moving cloud that's impossibly fluffy and gigantic

math tests

happy lesbians in movies

books that are just too damn good (too many to list here)

thinking too hard about what makes me me

watching clouds move over the moon at night

frida kahlo's paintings

the great british baking show (from laughter)

sappho poetry and what it could've been

stories about AIDS

world history

a friend trusting me

walks around the neighborhood at sunset

Ren Liufang wishes Xiu Lihua wouldn’t.

It is the night before they invade the Ren Compound, from which Ren Liufang’s influence had been removed from after Ren Mingshou after the final instance of her disobedience. Cheng Bowen had insisted upon joining along with them and Xiu Lihua’s old friends, but he was in the other room now, probably grieving. Ren Liufang wouldn’t touch him until the next morning, when she’d evaluate his condition for the upcoming mission. For now, she places her trust in Shi Jinghui.

Xiu Lihua and Ren Liufang are left by themselves now, in the room they had rented for themselves. It reminds her of that first night in the inn, only a few days after their first reunion. Ren Liufang’s arms are wrapped around Xiu Lihua’s waist and her chin is nestled on her shoulder. Xiu Lihua shifts uneasily in her grasp at first but relaxes after the body warmth tires her out. They’ve already talked about how the next day must go. Ren Liufang has recounted her stories and Xiu Lihua hers, and now, they both lay together, basking in each other silently.

But a bug wriggles inside of her head. She has no choice but to spit it out.

“Xiu Lihua, do you love me?”

An annoying question like that.

It is not unusual to hear each other’s full names fall from each other’s lips. Still, Xiu Lihua turns around quickly, rotating her body on the mattress. Ren Liufang softens her hold on her so that they can face each other fully.

“W-What brought this on?” Xiu Lihua asks, clearly flustered. The tip of her nose is flushed prettily.

“I just wanted to hear it,” Ren Liufang replies softly. The other woman examines her facial features for a second before sighing, averting her eyes in uncertainty.

Normally, Ren Liufang would never have asked this question. The notion of love had only been brought up a few times and had been accepted only once before, so both of them were still new to the idea. Xiu Lihua in particular was easy to fluster and put off balance when it came to things like this and tends to think too deeply, and Ren Liufang is not cruel enough to find pleasure in a large amount of the other’s apparent suffering. The confession itself had been difficult enough for Xiu Lihua to live through without burning up to the highest heavens in embarrassment, and Ren Liufang had built up a sort of resilience to waiting after such a long time for it to happen. She could wait more.

In conclusion, there had been no conversation. It was not even determined after this time if they were even dating.

Xiu Lihua bites her lip, forming a cute expression. Ren Liufang wants to touch her face, but she refrains from the action out of self discipline. Instead, she tries to alleviate the other’s distress.

“It is my mistake for ask this so suddenly. It’s alright if you can’t give me an answer right now,” she says as an apology. She hesitates before saying the next thing, lowering her gaze and gripping the other’s chest. The real hard-to-swallow pill will reveal itself now.

“Please, if you love me, then do not sacrifice yourself for me tomorrow.”

Xiu Lihua inhales sharply. Ren Liufang tightens her grip on her body, her expression momentarily contorting into one filled with pain. She buries her nose into the back of the other woman’s neck, hugging her to her chest as if she’d disappear if let go.

“That’s all I ask,” she whispers. “Please.”

Xiu Lihua is silent. Then, she touches Ren Liufang’s cheek softly, caressing her pale skin with the palm of her warm hand. Ren Liufang leans into the touch, averting her eyes. Xiu Lihua strokes her jawbone for a few seconds longer, her eyes brimming with emotion.

“I cannot imagine myself… I cannot imagine myself being like this with anyone else,” she says quietly. “No one else but you.”

It’s as close to a confession as it gets. Ren Liufang’s eyes widen, and Xiu Lihua continues. “I’ve wanted to apologize for so many things,” she admits, “always.”

“There don’t need to be any apologies tonight,” Ren Liufang says resolutely. She rubs the underside of Xiu Lihua’s eyelid with her thumb and presses their foreheads together. “This is enough.”

Xiu Lihua raises her gaze in order to meet hers. Without warning, she grabs the back of Ren Liufang’s neck and joins their lips in a single fluid movement. Ren Liufang makes a sound of surprise, but her mouth easily fits in with the other woman’s, their tastes melding together sweetly.

They keep kissing like that until she realizes that Xiu Lihua is too timid to take it further on her own, her eyes squeezed shut almost like she is holding her breath underwater. Ren Liufang can’t help a smile at her cuteness, quickly taking control and slipping her tongue in. Xiu Lihua gasps and tightens her grip on the nape of her neck.

When they finally break apart, both of their eyes are dilated, their breaths heaving out of their mouths hotly. Ren Liufang stares at her, the woman she’s loved for a third of her whole life, and Xiu Lihua stares back just as strongly.

“Let’s have each other tonight,” she says, “before tomorrow comes.”

Xiu Lihua’s cheeks flush, but she pulls her down for another kiss, and it all goes from there.

Afterwards, they lie next to each other again, their skin warm against each other and their bodies sated. Xiu Lihua’s hand lazily traces Ren Liufang’s waist, emboldened by the prior activities. The other woman’s chest rises and falls steadily, her thin frame warm in her hands. She gazes at the older woman, unable to take her eyes off of the sleeping form.

She must’ve been tired, Xiu Lihua muses. Then, her expression turns solemn, and she brushes a stray strand of hair out of Ren Liufang’s face, her lips pressing together into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

The kiss Xiu Lihua presses to her forehead is still awkward because of her own inexperience, but it’s the only thing she can do to atone.

How easy life would be if you could be satisfied simply by loving another without expecting anything back. Except, she isn’t good at that either. She can’t express her feelings freely through words, and she’s too stilted to initiate anything. But what if she were presented with an opportunity to finally show her love with the strength that it demands? With no fear of how the other woman would respond?

She runs it through her mind, a single moment where Ren Liufang isn’t raised enough or a missed swing that results in a vulnerable part of the body being exposed. Or maybe, a sudden unprecedented burst of power that would catch her off guard.

“I don’t think I can stop myself should such a situation arise.”

Xiu Lihua traces the scars on her back, her fingertips having memorized the pattern of marred skin already. Then, she looks to Ren Liufang again. The other woman shivers in her sleep, and Xiu Lihua pulls her closer.

In the end, ‘I love you’ are just words.

For a blubbering idiot and unlovable person such as herself, Xiu Lihua would die in order to realize them.

wearing tights gets me in the mood for the holidays.

all-black clothing; soft skirts and long sleeves,

making hot chocolate with a friend on facetime

and pretending like she's still here, putting my

hair back and walking outside in a coat, because

it's finally, finally cold enough in california.

i'm waiting patiently: for a letter to come in the

mail, for inspiration to strike, for the milk to

heat up, for halloween night, for my friends to

come over, for the weather to chill, for a text back,

for christmas music and hanukkah parties, for

the BART train to arrive, for the lights in the theater

to dim, for my first kiss, for math test results, for

the winter months to come.

but it's a nice waiting, the kind that you can curl

up under the blanket and read a book, the kind

that comes an hour before the party starts when

everything is clean and you're setting out the food.

it's a calm kind of thrumming that runs through

my body in anticipation, a few butterflies in my

stomach that i know will dissolve when something

happens, the feeling i get when i know it will be soon-

so i just have to wait.

my childhood is plagued in an atrociously beautiful mess of colors.

raspberry red reminds me of the slide on my elementary school's playground; it was the holy grail, to be quite honest. lines would stretch all the way to the monkey bars. they were a bright neon orange that attracted kids it to like they were flit-flit-flitting moths loop-de-looping towards a florescent porch light. some walked away from those bars with pinkened scrapes and some walked away with their arms in makeshift splints. the swings were a treat. if you got high enough in the air, you could taste the sugar droplets of the clouds above. the sweetness always melted on your tongue. 

then we all grew up, and we planted our roots in the pavements about our high school. we all mellowed out, and fell into the crashing waves of sophomores, juniors and seniors. we blended and blurred until we were even unrecognizable to each other. my world is now pastel yellows, beiges and greens. 

but i'll never forget the rainbow of my memories. i'll hold them dear, but only at arm's length.

trees made out of power lines

and radioactive air waves

penetrate the lungs of the elderly

no one is unscathed from mans creations

wheel me home on broadway

streetlights burning green and blue

can’t you feel the ghosts in the air?

gently caressing your skin, dying for a better time

don’t stop to linger

you’ll get cursed out here

When would I see it, I wondered;

the light at the end of the tunnel

surely I was nearing the end, I had to be

I went through all the trials and tribulations;

and I couldn't bear to go on any longer;

I searched and searched for all silver linings,

summoning every courage I could channel

to hold on dearly to the hope of happy endings

but suddenly, clearly, the realisation hit me

there's no happy ever after;

it is merely an illusion

watching as all hopes and dreams plundered,

broken-hearted, I turned to solitude;

convincing myself they would only delude

I vowed to never again let anyone near;

to all sweet nothings, I'd just close my ears

and build a life sheltered by durable silence;

sweet words always were my weakness

and my type of love cultivated a violence;

I'd be better off accustomed to loneliness

but there's no silence filled with laughter

and the melody of love always was stronger

feeble candles burn themselves out to death,

(hard cold flesh burns and reeks

in their motherly warmth)

and bury themselves in blue fondue.

someone picks them up gently between two fingers

and harshly throws them away.

(there's something nauseating about dead candles)

somewhere, a song stops playing.

somewhere, the evening ends.

they adjust their dark coats and shake my hand,

the lights are slowly departing.

my history teacher says communists are dry and

so is their history and i spit on the ground.

(and so does che).

young blood spills on rough concrete.

yellow leaves fall from the sky onto my terrace

in the night like ill crows

and whisper to me that autumn

is almost here and i cry myself to sleep.

yellow leaves never lie.

august passes away quickly

and i mourn for it sometimes.

(in a dream, i walk over august's dead body,

and it waves back).

pretty pretty words were strangled

inside my throat and trampled under heavy feet

(i hear them shaking like broken glass

sometimes)

in moist july nights.

september promises to be harsher.

this time, there is a finality with which

dark coats are adjusted and hands shook.

the lights are slowly departing.