I am my own nuances.

I am all the unique exceptions

that make up my experience.

I am the crude mix of vocabulary

that comes from growing up bilingual.

I am the act of bringing memories of my heritage

to an environment that’s devoid of it,

almost suppressing it.

I am the doubts of where I belong

as someone who is not enough of either culture

to consider myself fully one or the other.

I am the niche experiences

that neither my parents nor my classmates understand;

the ones that only my sibling and I share

from growing up between worlds.

A person who walks the line

never really has a place to belong.

One foot is always on each side,

never having the entire experience of each,

but having a swirl of both cultures.

I am a swirled ice cream cone.

A hint of vanilla,

a taste of chocolate,

the flavor being reminiscent of both

but something completely unique

at the same time.

Neither the vanilla cones

nor the chocolate cones

fully understand.

Only others who are swirled like me.