I would stand in the shadow of the hallway leading out into the wide open space,
looking for you in the distance.
People would rush past, intent on not wasting any more time than it took for them to get there,
and I would linger, my eyes searching for you amidst the sea of bodies.

Alas, I would find your smiling eyes,
your laughter booming from where I stood and before then,
you would see me in the shadows and smile knowingly,
and I would make my way out to you,
myself beaming in mutual acknowledgment.
You would slide over to make room for me,
or demand that whoever blocked the way do the same,
as I was sitting nowhere except beside you.

In the evenings, we would sit on the couch in your living room,
our knees touching absentmindedly as you told me about your day,
of all the people you interacted with,
and I would listen, all smiles, and we would laugh over the stupid bits,
and then you would venture into your kitchen,
throw white rice onto a skillet, mix in kimchi and chili sauce,
and make the best bokkeumbap I would ever have,
and pack extra in foil for my mom as she loved it too.
You made food for me because you loved me,
and I loved you anyway, though the food was a bonus.

We would resume our positions on the couch after dinner,
our legs criss-crossing over each other,
there in our contented fullness,
high on life and on the daily presence of one another,
counting on each other to be there every other night,
to keep out the world and keep in this love,
a love that neither of us would acknowledge,
as we enjoyed the limbo we resided in far too much,
as we enjoyed a sisterhood that would always edge into something else,
as we went on with the outside world,
and the boyfriends we tried on like cheap shoes.

Everyone else was temporary, and we were permanent.
We protected each other like alphas
who could sense an external threat from miles away,
and no one crossed our path successfully unless permitted.

I think of you now, as I begin a new journey of transformation and progress.
As I attempt to navigate the waters of conventional accomplishment and fulfillment,
as I feign enthusiasm and earnestness for things I know nothing of,
things I may only partially believe in lest I am proven wrong.
I think of our shared wildness, our shared rebellion,
the ways in which we made each other feel insurmountable, indestructible.
Of our innate sense of what it meant to be young women
who demanded more than the world would offer us,
who demanded an entire universe and nothing less.
I think of the ways in which you were my sister, my friend.

I think of a love that remains forever gilded in a precious time long ago,
a time of ceaseless wonder and defying possibility.

As I inhabit this novel space of adult normativity,
I remain as wild and as rebellious as we ever were,
our spirit flowing through my veins like the air I breathe,
as I fight for the quintessential person I have always been.
The world I have crafted expands brightly before me,
and while I am filled with a deepening affection to move forward,
I will think of you in time, in the things I do,
in the moments when I have strayed from that old path,
the path of wildflowers and moonlight.


You fill my dreams of late,
dark as they have always been,
like the still surface of an obsidian pond,
smooth, untarnished, metallic.

Seen to ignorant eyes as fine glass,
this body of water is eerie to behold,
its blackness slow and deliberate, deceptively motionless.
You cannot look away,
for this marvel is pristine, delicate, and beautiful
despite its ominous intent.
It isn’t till you step onto that lacquered surface
that you realize it isn’t solid.
My water runs deep into the earth,
hiding all manner of its physical environment,
there to lure your senses into believing the imagination.

You fill my thoughts in waking daylight,
a reminder that I must confront gray matter,
that I must pay particular attention
to the delicacies of modern interaction,
lest I become trapped in my fortress.

I’m peeved by your blatant display of emotion.
I bristle at your easy affirmation and manageable offenses.
I was forced to inherit my conditioning
despite my complete incompatibility in conjunction with it.
When I declared myself, I was criticized and demoralized.

I’m volatile and vicious when I’m between states of insensibility.
Perhaps I’m incurable of this underlying rage
that I am to confirm and submit so easily
when there is so much at stake.


Shine in your pitfalls,
wander in your love,
give purpose to your confusion,
revel in your whims,
do this all in the confines of your desires only,
fashion yourself after your goddesses,
shape your thoughts to the wisdom of your wisewomen,
take not from the piles of uniform production,
not from the idle clouds of murky uniformity,
never from those who are all veneer and no heart,
remember to stay far from the fields of machina,
that whose coats gleam untarnished under the sun,
they will hinder your journey north,
follow the worn roads and walk beneath the sentinel boughs,
stay the path and move forward always,
you are more than you were yesterday.



Why don’t you tell me something I don’t already know, a revelation that shifts my sunken world, a thing that turns my beliefs inwards, that infinite void of encapsulation without pretense or supposition, you ostentatious fuck, tell me something new, avoid presenting oneself in a light you can’t ever emanate, it’s the kind of shade we walk in, the one you can’t borrow, the kind we’re made of the moment we’re born, it can’t be recreated or mimicked, it’s innate, it’s either there or it’s not, we walk in our tribe of selective disentanglement, that’s where I stand, it’s who I am. Who are you?