Asian Woman

wrote this at the bart station before heading to SF. I wrote this initially about a friend of mine, whom shall go un-named. I realized as the piece unraveled that I can see her in me. I wonder if anyone else can relate.

Asian Woman

Your skin is the color of olive oil
yellow like the sun
sometimes pasty like snow
some days it is the tan that comes bottled and produced for white people
difficult to choose a shade isn't it?

Complacent Asian Women,
your voice squeaks like an infant's toy,
It is distinctly loud in it's quiet disposition
sometimes your voice becomes over-casted
by everyone elses',
but I know its there

your foot steps are light and hasty
as if to make yourself go unnoticed
you often shift your body from tight angles
to avoid taking up too much of other people's space

your body is always petite,
a pentacle for eroticism
not by choice, but the construction of
me love you long time trickery

your eyes are deep
and has witnessed the unthinkable,
their shapes are indefinitely defined,
almond, slanted, pitch black...

you like to conserve, to sacrifice,
you want to please everyone before yourself
you won't allow others to pity you
you give but you've forgotten to take

your hesitation perplexes me
your capabilities tucked neatly behind you
like a shy child behind her mother

Come out of your shell, shy child
The shadows in which you leave
can only do so much to validate your existence