Am I afraid of love or is love afraid of me?
I cannot push a knife down the middle, cannot separate
The two. As a boy, my mother would sit me down
And tell me of all the ways we’ve lost my father. There is
A box with all the old photos and I never saw her open it once.
This is the same with the wildflowers my sister and I gathered
At the park, now wilting on the mantle. My older brother never
Apologized for the time he left the welt on my arm, or
When he told me that we hurt the same way. The sting of
Never being enough, my inability to say hello without thinking
Of goodbye - all of it is mine, and I never wanted it to be
Like his. Now here I am, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. Love isn’t
Meant to be a war thing but I’ve been taught to take a heart by
My teeth. I leave nothing untouched, even the heartache.
Narisma (he/him) is an 18-year-old Filipino writer and artist currently based in the Philippines. "Wildflowers and War" considers how young adulthood is shaped by childhood trauma.