i have 3 helpings of pollo guisada
the fat girl in me was still salivating from the saborrr
its soo good, gracias bamba thank you
she smiles at me
watching me take each bite to notice if i
somehow crunch on a bone and make a face to then
tell all the family in puerto rico that i
was disgusted at her food.
she takes a seat,
ghloe, why ju so skeeny mama
ju no eat en school ?
i look from my placemat with a water stain and to her,
i smirk
of coursee, it just disappears to i dont know where
she walks off back to the kitchen to start preparing tupperwares of her leftovers for my dads lunch breaks for the week
i went on my health app and logged my progress-
still nothing,
i thought about my inability to gain
ran up to my room and started to write.

my mom likes to entertain scenarios
of how her life would’ve been
sans my father
lilah and riley wouldn’t have been here
she raises her eyebrows in disbelief
of the life she’s stuck with
you would’ve had a stepdad and a new step mom

crazy.

divided household and i would’ve
met you still
but not’ve known you..
a boy i knew until i was in 4th grade
maybe weeks on and weeks off at my moms to dads would’ve spared me
from your routine heartbreaks you graciously offer me with a ribbon on top in my
favorite color-
brown
maybe if i had 4 parents they would they have taken me to do my hair when they found out about my
first boyfriend,
curls sizzled to pin straight strands like strained love ties,
the 2 houses glowing as if
it was Christmas
and the 3 magi would be different this time-
in the form of middle aged hispanic women
offering advice on how to make him
immovable
completely entranced with my 14 year old being
wrapped around my nail-bitten-to-the-nub finger
siempre joo need to wear perfumé
the first one said
always wax joo eyebrows y joo piernas- no man likes a hairy girl- es
disgusted
the second broke down
her neck & nose was shiny with vicks
the third eyeing my from across the room
disappointed i turned down
the idea of brujería

No wonder
I love you.

i’ve been good thanks for asking
i tasted the break in his voice with the phrase he practiced in his mirror most mornings
when he’d pass places we’ve been
how about you, long time no see
his eyes looked cloudy
cheeks riddled with adolescent stubble yet
rosey in random splotches
his hooded eyes
heavy with dread after chasing the wrong one
apathetic and deadened
never pleaded yet
trying to reconcile what we had
attempting to
see the sun in my eyes again
they shine bright now
just not for him

it can’t be undone

with every single
cell
in my body
every single
breath
i draw in and out
with every
living insect to every human pest
walking
this earth
with every single
keratinized strand of hair
that breaks through my scalp
i can wholeheartedly say
i hate you



good luck

what are you doing
waiting for someone
who
i don’t remember anymore
i don’t think they remember i’m waiting either
so what are you doing now

holding on to what could’ve been

old coffee coarses through me
can’t feel a heartbeat
going too quick to pick up a pulse
a sign of life
a drug yet a luxury
-integrity-
prosperity of humanity
and you have none while you continue to slander
my name
my name
being mentioned in rooms i’ve never stepped in

without my control,
a once blank canvas would soon be used as a form of blame and through it peace in you-
preconceived notions are drawn in the minds of associates and strangers
better than an aged painter in the studio he’s only ever known
yet this painter is blindfolded
while this oblivious painter intently tunes in
to sympathize with the selective truths you dispose
‘how could she??’ they say

beautiful
in an unconventional way
for you to teach them what they don’t want to be
whilst they choose what to hear
words sifted once again like the selection of the finest grain
rejects strawn amongst the boulder
you were once beautiful
a sweet dandelion left to a stem with a rigid bulb at the top
not hideous just no longer wished upon

unfortunately

there’s no lights in this room
just brushes sprawled all out on the rug
with a ray of sunkissed light coming through the duvets-
it’s a bother but you
bring it up when others do
used to be the highlight of the room
but now just something that reluctantly grew on you
you want the dark but i only wish light amongst you past lover

you continue to lead-
incite fine strokes in them for my self portrait
for better or worse
i refuse to recognize for myself
using colors i’d never think you’d use- their masterpiece being guided by your bitter words
i blamed myself for an instant-
something you’d never do
leading me to believe that your heart
never was truly pure when i was with you