Whose cruel God is the decider of my fate?
I believe what they claim, that God is a man. Because only a man could rip my heart in two and hide the missing piece halfway across the world deep underneath the desert sands of the barren West where the cowboys used to gentrify the land already occupied, claiming that their way was the way.
If God was a woman, as I wanted to believe, would She not appeal to my disgusting inclination to fall hard and fast; feed my desire to love and be loved by a boy who aligns with everything I want and deserve? Perhaps Her divine intervention would have placed us within reach rather than kept me yearning for something that could be, that would be if only the landscape that divides us were not so expansive.
I have tasted the fruits of my homeland, which are rotted and riddled with gnats. My tastebuds desperately crave a new cuisine that does not derive from the soil I stand on.
I am overwhelmed with the need for palm trees, clear skies, and your ocean-blue eyes.
