Alice always reminded me of myself.
But I’ll never understand why she left Wonderland.
If I could, I’d go down the rabbit hole and never come back.

Every night I would talk to the moon
“Mother moon, my heart is broken yet again.”
She would listen to every detail, and offer her advice when needed
One night, it was my turn to listen.
She confessed how lonely it was to be all alone in the night sky with no friends.
“But you have the stars to accompany you, Mother moon.”
“The stars keep to themselves. What I really want is a child.”
How silly, I thought. How would a moon ever have a child?
Well
I threw myself off the balcony. My arms reaching up into the sky.
When I awoke, the moon was cradling me in her crescent shape
They say that when the moon is in her cresecent stage it’s because she’s rocking her baby to sleep
That’s how I became La hija de la luna
The daughter of the moon

The man that I love makes me feel both lost and found
It’s a strange feeling, really,
Kind of like when you’re using a GPS to get somewhere and it’s telling you where to go yet you’re still confused
Last night his words tore right into me
Like a crazed panther on the hunt to cause pain
Though he insulted me, his beautiful accent made me confused whether to be offended or flattered that such horrifying remarks could come out of such a lovely tongue
“You’re so messed up. **** your self already”
Is what he told me
The reason?
I found text messages of his infidelity and lies from a while ago
“You’re overreacting. That was a long time ago. Get over it.”
I looked out the window while he drove and kept throwing his insults at me like a dagger
“You always do these things. Maybe if you stopped being so depressed all the time I wouldn’t have to cheat.”
That part killed me
But I kept looking out the window as the car rode on into the night. Tears flowing down my pale face
I’d always wanted someone to find me and save me from my sadness
But how is it that I’ve finally been found yet still feel so lost?

Friday, I went to church
The pastor gave his speech about loving your enemy
The flashbacks came back
I try so hard to suppress them and make them go away
But like weeds, they interrupt your beautiful garden at the worst of times
I see myself at the doorway
As she kissed the man I love
Rage fills me until my vision is a deep scarlet
Like blood
How I would love to see her covered in it
But I know this isn’t what God wants
“Forgiveness is the answer” says the tiny angel next to me
His pale face under his golden curls is so mesmerizingly beautiful it could melt me and make me do anything he wanted
Except this
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I can’t”
He looks at me. Filled with disappointment.
What would feel better?
The look of despair on her face when I destroy everything she’s ever cared about? Or
The look of happiness on his face when I tell the angel i will forgive
I feel guilt
Since
I chose the first option

Amore
It tastes like cinnamon
Like the little honey bees flirting with the flowers in the morning and giving them their morning kiss
The innocence of the child as she holds her teddy bear close, because she believes he’ll protect her from all harm
The arms of the man I love, which feel like velvet and chamomile
The song I hum, professing my eternal devotion to him
But what is this feeling?
The one that makes us prance around under the moonlight and cover our bodies in lace and vanilla for?
Amare è vivere
To love is to live
To move the sky and the oceans and everything in between just to see that person smile
To trust that person so much you take off your silk dress and reveal all your body and secrets to them
It’s something so intense you become blinded
A fool
But I don’t care
I’d rather be a fool then be without you for even a fraction of a millisecond
Your absence causes such a decrease in my oxygen I’d die without it
I don’t care if people say it’s foolish
To be distraught over a man
I’d give my entire being to have his love forever, and would do the unthinkable to obtain it
I would die without him
When people ask me what love is, my mind instantly thinks of this
And they tell me
It seems more like an addiction then true love

Like the rose, I have many layers
Beautiful on the outside
And the more petals you strip off, the more beauty is taken away
Because when you start to unravel me, you find things you might not want to see
Thorns
When I warn potential lovers of the pain they’ll encounter when pursuing me, they don’t believe it at first
Because how could such a rose have so much pain?
But the deeper you peel, the more thorns you find
The more chances of getting caught up in my thorns and getting poked
Until your fingers are soaked in blood from all the ripping you’ve done into my rose flesh
Just to discover I was right all along, and being poked isn’t worth being with me

That day was awful
Writing was my passion, it was my escape
Because I could write anything about everything in this universe and it felt like freedom and adrenaline were partnering together and cascading through my veins like a sugar rush
But then it went away
The day that the rose tinted glasses were ripped away from my doll face
And the truth was in front of me all along
I was face to face with an image so devastating to me it changed my perspective on love
Because I didn’t believe in it anymore after that day
The image
Of my best friend. The one I saw as a sister. The one that I sheltered and cared for since the day I started to call her a friend.
Kissing the man I love
Do you remember that poem I wrote?
The man I love
The poem that I stayed up hours for every night for weeks
Perfecting it because in my clueless and infatuated little mind, that was what he deserved
The look of shock on her face when she turned to see me standing at the doorway
Tears running down my face as if they were racing to see which one could get to my jawline the fastest
My mascara that I bought at the drugstore since I saved up money for weeks to get her the best one at the Macy’s counter so she could be happy
Stained my porcelain skin
I stumbled down the hallway, hearing the cries behind me
“Forgive me! Please! You’re my best friend! I’m begging you!”
I kept walking
After that, I stopped writing.