Four of Thirty by Yena Sharma Purmasir

it is a tuesday when i love someone
who doesn’t love me. no, it’s not the first time,
but it’s a sad time. oh, it’s always a sad time
but my heart doesn’t listen, doesn’t understand,
soars like a child in a rocket ship,
doesn’t believe in gravity. doesn’t believe
in learning a lesson. wants to give
until there is nothing left but glitter.
wants to say something even if no one
is listening. what is love anyway?
a curse, a promise, a shadow
that never fits the body. sometimes too big
and sometimes not big enough. my heart,
all hospitality and sweetness: baby, yes,
of course there is room for you here. and then,
like a bitter landlord, watching someone
put his feet on my coffee table, the same coffee table
no one ever helps me clean: you’ve overstayed
your welcome. get out. go home.