When I realized how much I loved my skin; it was like an epiphany that I’ve been neglecting my entire life, and once I came to terms with it, I just felt so much happier.
Two years ago, I was in an abusive relationship and still find myself thinking about her.
An ode to my dead mother.
A poem of sorts written by a daughter of a Khmer rouge survivor.
Dear lover, friend, someone I knew, and an unfinished poem.