And colored my inferiority with a darker shade.
I chose to see the limbs and bones,
Decided to sacrifice my night meals.
I chose to believe the perfection
In the waves of their urban hair
Were merely God’s gifts.
Surely I was created when
All the “good stuff” was “out of his stock”.
Am I being punished for being a bulimic,
Or for expecting more spectacular colors
When the sun dives beyond the horizon?
Now I see how these colors faintly
Pass through them—
They are the transparent covers of Cosmopolitan.

About the Poet

Afrida Tanzim, a poet from Bangladesh says about herself: A girl who claims to have come from a small corner of the world, yet knowing that the world is round. I fake accents and consider my parents to be my co-stars. I invent stories in my head to make my life more complicated. I have a dream that someday I would know what I want to do.

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