until she started taking ownership.

“You’re mine”

“My Flaco”

I cringed.

Yo no soy de ella,

ni de nadie.

Yo soy mio.

isn’t about taming, it’s about maintaining that special person running wild through your heart and mind.

Love isn’t about being proud that you changed someone, it’s about enjoying that persons imperfections.

Love isn’t about pretty words, it’s about words that carry weight.

Love isn’t about putting on a show for the world to see, it’s about what goes on behind the scenes.

Love isn’t about wondering where you’re going, it’s about enjoying the moment.

She came out the bathroom ****,

wearing **** colored pumps.

They made her calves look like batatas.

“You like what you see?”

I smiled and pulled her in closer.

Seeds that I’ve planted and forgotten.

I don’t even water them for fear that they might grow

and turn me inside out.

I stare out the window,

admiring my handy work.

What was supposed to be our garden of memories

has turned into a graveyard of abandoned moments.