Azia Archer is a mother, writer and maker living in Minnesota. She was born in Corona, California in 1986. In 2012, she founded Dirty Chai Magazine and is the owner of Tiny Flames Press + Shop. You can connect with her online via Twitter @aziaarcher.
I don’t know how many ways I can say I’m sad.
I keep tucking I’m sad into tiny spaces, like
the space between my mattress and the floor,
your back pocket as I watch you walk away from me.
I don’t know how many times I’m sad has meant
I miss you.
I keep dressing I’m sad in I hate you
and Never talk to me again
but the clothes never seem to fit right.
I’m sad weeps for a chance at another disguise.
I’m sad wilts yellow into the only thing I’m sad knows—
I don’t know how many arms have held I’m sad.
I keep reminding I’m sad to be soft,
to smile more and remind all the arms
how safe they make her feel, how strong.
Don’t be needy, make it sound
like a compliment,
like something cool,
but, Shh! I’m sad!
Don’t let them know how he broke you.