Artwork by Sheena Marie Tubiano

Do not mistake me for
comfort zones and safe spaces.
For the gentle whirring
of the washing machine and
slow dancing in old socks
on a late Thursday evening after work.
Do not mistake me for
dried lavender and incense sticks,
scented candles and 80s mixtapes.
For the comic books and
secondhand paperbacks of classics
and lentil soup served
in floral painted bone china.
I am not any of these beautiful things.

I am hospital bills and
unpaid leaves.
I am waiting rooms
and mood stabilizers.
Nothing about my body
looks like shared blankets
and pillow talk.
My body is a cold bed I want
to wake up from.
I am not your mother’s lap.
I am not your ex-lover’s shoulder.
I am not your way out of yourself.
Do not mistake me for
another soft thing you can
break and write poetry on,
because I am not that.
I am relaxed ambulances
heading home
from the morgue,
with the satisfaction that
there is nothing left
for you to kill.

—

Megha Rao is a spoken word poet/surrealist artist based in India.

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