we layed it on
thick
on broken floors
on tears
on fights on wednesday mornings
on heavy silences from hearing she let him come back home
our foundation
attempts to hold the weight
of what this became
from when it started
born aged
our love was smoking cigarettes
we bought the apartment with the
crack down the ceiling
and the pots boiling go get it!

i blow the dust off my culinary treat
and they tower over me and spit on what i’ve presented
ungrateful, spiteful, unhappy
i distribute my truth and it sits sour
in the stomachs of those i care for
i look at their faces in hopes to be understood
they find it revolting every time
despite me adding sweetener to my words
flipped onto me as though i’m the problem
i go back to my abode to sugar coat these words
i utter once again to be received more palatable by ears that need tickling

i wrap my childhood needs in soft pink satin cloth covered so they don’t
hurt again for a while in a gift box with a bow to be stored on the highest shelf in the closet of my mind
i hold the box

maybe this time it’s different

dear brain,

thank you for
giving us another day of life
it hurts when you hurt us
we didn’t do anything to you
face is beautiful the way she is
when hands hold the device
and you compare us to edited girls
you fixate on every imperfection until you convince us we’re inadequate but
when eyes look in the mirror
we convince you
we’re enough with mouth’s affirmations
we feel whole again after
dicing parts of limbs
saying you are deserving of all that is pure and good but there are but’s
tender is the skin that
still holds pencils to write poetry
and we want to eat
it feels rewarding when palms are allowed to wrap around utensils to sustain us
refreshing when stomach is full and glands produce happy hormones
please love us the way we love you


                                   from,
                                           body

he took me to see the orchestra
i watched them while he watched me
both with eyes of awe
the synchronization of up and down bows
commanding emotion and
the harp in his chest strummed gently that evening
it hadn’t sung the way it sang that evening
i leaned towards the stage encapsulated
holding my hand he felt a sense of permanence
that if i heard the music i’d stay and the pain was worth it
and reminding him when it’s good it’s real good

he took me to see the orchestra because i played violin then
i dreamt of going back to school to practice more
i’d finger the notes under the table at dinner every night and i’d lose track of time and he noticed that and
he loved how immersed i could become once i fell in love with something
and he wanted not to wade but dive into me

he took me to see the orchestra because he loved the way i wrote then
it was complex and he didn’t understand it and it made him discontent with what he knew he appreciated how soothing and real the words felt
like running water on a cut
it was refreshing
cooling and he just wanted me to see what he heard when peering into my vessel and her prose

she was so pretty
she sat by the edge of the pool
in her cherry-printed two-piece bathing suit
and sparkled toenails
and bitten nails
she looked familiar
with her grey goggles ****** tight on her
forehead
i peer at her and then at the pool
don’t be scared,
i always heard you feel like a fish once you start
you look like you’d be a natural
but that’s only if you give it a try..
i forced a smile back at her
breaking the gaze with the
mysterious deep blue
you don’t look like the type that would
voluntarily swim i said
and yet here i am
she wiggled her sparkly toes triumphantly
as if being by the pool was something to be praised
it’s bad enough i was her company
we both shouldn’t have been here
i fell for her then..
not her
but what we both wanted to reach at the bottom
and we held hands and jumped together
having nothing left to fear..

ive been struck by an eternal love
through every shape and form
i will love you one way or another

i love you
and out of all that i am uncertain of

this will always hold true.

Venga told me to meet her by the rock
of peace
the rock in which we can reside
it's cool there
                            shhhh
it's cool there
thick mist surrounds us and we don’t speak
just see each other on opposite sides
deep dark waters surround us but we
keep our eyes closed so we won’t
see each others' tears absorb on our blouses
we avoid vulnerability because the feeling is so raw
pain entering in an unwarranted fashion
wading about within us breaking down what was built up
with great effort trying to push out that agonizing discomfort
with incense, scriptures, and poems
Oh my!
and the pain never leaves
just eats away at our rock
begging for it to stay intact
praying for it to not erode
forcing us to progressively
crouch then squat
stand then tippy-toe
and we gracefully anchor to the ocean floor.

some days
my jules laughed
harder than others
and I knew she wasn't with me anymore
facing blunts more than accountability
and I watched her slip through my hands
she'd smile and it wasn't her I greeted
she became the light beam that reflects on a wall
unattainable
uncapturable
you chase it with your eyes
as it moves violently around a room
until it just dies out
and so we did

i sat on the round rug
and looked at the circle block once again
at my big age.
perplexed
i'm still trying to fit it into the square cutout
and I grow frustrated
digging into the rug
catching red stale fibers stuck underneath my nails
knowing it won't fit
but maybe it'll adjust
for me
with enough pressure
it will become malleable
when no ones watching
succumbing to my loving force
with gentle tact
it would change
maybe that was where I went wrong
and so i

i don’t want to
dance if it’s not
with you.

coldness
the absence of heat
so many lives lost
in such little time
needing video proof to show
it's validity
the absence of love
that manifests in our children and in
our children's children
repeating chapters in history books
blandness
the absence of flavor,
the cookie-cutter complexion-
thin but not too thin,
fair with straight hair,
but everyone wants a sprinkle of
brown sugar in they culture;
the braids, thick-lipped smiles,
the slang, the suave,
the culture is the thing to be in
this day in age but the people
aren't embraced as much as their ways are
darkness
the absence of light,
and we become greater
when we become more informed of
the ripple effect
our actions have and carrying such things out,
offering that person a seat near you,
making them feel welcome,
like they belong,
I don't want to have to be afraid if my grandpa
will be killed if he makes eye contact with the police
like Freddie Gray
or if my cousin will be killed for
walking home with a friend like Gregg Gunn
but we're here
fighting for natural rights
pleading to be treated unjustly
by those in power
fighting the same fight our great-grandparents fought
lifeless
the absence of heart
of joy, of impartiality,
we all came from a woman,
we all bleed red..

no justice..
no peace..

no tranquility..

i stroke the dirt above you
and hug your stone
never minding the soil that stains my jeans
a tear rolls down my cheek
as i trace my index over your
engraved name
and the wind whistles for
us both

protective styles
coiled with split-end balm
mantras
skate for 20 minutes
oil to the scalp after brushing
you're so beautiful
you're understanding
and grateful
we need detaching
to remember our presence
valuing life
fluidity and it's grace
piping lemon water
it burns the lip but it's good for you
leaving **** on the back of the tongue
valuing nunchi
mindful breathing
and not letting anything rob you of your power

i scrape out dirt that one
can’t see with the naked eye
from underneath my nails
out of anxiousness
desperation
needing to feel
the keratinized layers add
femininity to me
cleaning them out
twice more
nine times more
seventeen times more
i pull my hands away and stare
at the chipped clear polish and
savagely push back the cuticles

forgive me for i have forgotten what love feels like
tastes like
and looks like,
so even if i were to stumble into her on the street after all this dies down
i wouldn’t even recognize her
nor have the slightest idea on how to keep her

grungy teenage trigueña with
slits in her brows
new york city sewers
were cleaner than
her speech
she carried herself like
she’s the only one who exists
i complimented her before she stepped into her train
her curls bounced as she walked out of my life

me and ‘buela finished
predicando
and we sat at the dining table
near the china
soaking up the silence
she made me use a coaster
for my apple juice carton
looked across the table as she
struggled to slurp her
ice cream of a McFlurry
while i desired to know more of her
what life was like as a
single mother
she’d snort and call me ‘estupida’
if i asked
in her bags i see
loud discontentment
a friend i’m not a stranger of
i hope to one day learn her story
before i read it on a
memorial program

a show for the masses
you entertain and
appeal to many
your facade is undetectable
so no one knows who you really are
you claim you dont need nobody
and
i
in the background can not help
but notice
you did not blend your mask right
only acting like you were healed,
did you break..?

unraveling the powdery ball
from being encased in plastic
sinvergüenza!
you left the price on it to
prove how much you do for me
i watched the bath bomb
that you bought me months ago
still fizz after i put it to soak
after months of being disregarded
and saved for the perfect,
most overwhelming time,
it still had it's touch
the passing months
we broke down
in lukewarm waters
traced our love with chalky fingers
and the memories didn't matter anymore
essential oils fill the air of my bathroom
and the stress releases and i become pure again
it was so beautiful and
i must thank you
for what you left of me

i dance to the
sound of your voice
like old heads to 90s dancehall
while swaying with shandy
there's an indescribable love
an underappreciated love story
i meet you outside the brownstone
except its not a brownstone and it's
an apartment in the P's
and you see me holding flowers
except this time around i couldn't get the flowers
but with intentions of getting flowers,
your favorite, and
we hit it off and you become
the love of my life and we do it all over again
until i wake up

scrubbing grime from the
shower walls
with only a cup of water in my body
i wished to endure my fast,
witholding ingestion to
spite my face
feeling dizzy
i reluctantly accept the gentle
beams of sun that hug
my neck
and caress my shoulders
reminding me i hate it here
and
i miss that hole i used to be able to call
my escape
that hole that i met each of my friends
and got to know them better
build memories that would
be forgotten once everybody moved away
just wanted it to last a little longer.

i don't
regret a
thing

a cartoon character
stepped fresh out of a
box tv
everywhere and nowhere at once
tall and arrogant as most adolescents
may be
except to him he’s
timeless
roots me back to
childhood memories i
wish i could remember
wanting to be held
never saying so
the barrier of not being articulate
just feeling
feelings
drawing on everything
but paper

this life
is a feeling
a speck in time
we follow generation
after generation
seeking something more than what really is
we mend broken pasts and
make broken futures
never quite finding that ray of
perfection
this life we sit in trains and
look at the graffiti on the walls
wondering if this is all that
this life stores for our next generations
while lights
flash in and out
and we travel underground
like worms in earth’s dirt
we are uninvited guests
in this life
land taken by foreigners in exchange for
trauma that will never fade
we claim land though
not being able to create in the first place
diffusion of races like
dried rice and seasonings
mixing colliding and supposedly thriving
from the ground up
this life
leaves us no joy
but robs us of certain happiness and we
are taught that
in this life
only the successful will make it
only the corrupt will make it

i never take advantage
of being able to
peer into your welcoming eyes because
it reminds me that in the midst
of dark
there is always light
and i feel your heavy heart
but tender hand tighten in mine
dreams and reality
we blur the lines
in actuality
yet everyone confuses
love with lust
but it's clear to see
the way you stimulate my mind
effortlessly
you were meant for
me
and there's no place we'd rather be

at a funeral
you don’t know what to do with
your hands
you see cousins you haven’t seen
since your grandma washed you together
in the sink as infants
baby fathers and exes that stayed close with the family
strangers and relatives alike
at a funeral
you don’t hear laughter
or ringtones go off
or the pounding of kids colliding
into people’s shins playing manhunt behind stools
with candles and
scattered memorial programs
only the stillness between the body of your
loved one
in a casket
and that’s the last way you’ll see them
you wallow and think back at pictures
of better days with them and it’s
surreal
that you’re gone
surreal that there is life
after you
people sit in rows and gaze to the front
the closer they sit
the more healing they needed
and the casket is adorned with festive cut outs
to ring life
in their cushioned box
at funerals there are
solemn carpets where
young widows have walked
childless parents have walked
long lost family have walked
and big men have walked
to carry the casket to the hertz
at a funeral
the directors place dollar boxes of stale tissue that
gets ran through without letup
and when people are ready to continue
living they go over to the primary family
hug them
reassuringly hold one hand
and make their exit unknowing of
the next funeral they’ll have to attend
in order to come together
once again

i fell in love
with his mind
the way he spoke
the way he cared for
our people
the way he seems to genuinely
care about the words that
trailed off my lips
like sugar on the rim of a martini
you’re his favorite part
he can taste it
we sit side by side
while i wish we spoke
and you continued to engage
the way you do-
you fascinate me
maybe it’s the hispanic female
in me that pictures us telling our dogs
how we met,
you loved my writings
and as soon as you spoke
i fell in love with your mental
but in silence and sporadic click clacks
of keyboard keys
do we coexist and think of
we

my mother admits that
my birth
followed by my siblings
hindered her growth
as an individual
as if we could've
kept ourselves
from leaving the womb
just a little longer
and now
she is stuck
learning about herself through
trial and error
mishap and reconstruction
of person
tearing herself down to
build us up and
she admits that her life
would not be bound
to the crumbling walls of this life
this current one
had she listened to the adults around
her had she chose
him
over my father

when i dice
warm-tendered skin
like a blade to
mango exposing sweet flesh
and glide cut glass
on pulsing veins
i feel present again-
brought back to earth by fire
take a long crunch and the juice
seems to drip and stream
off the side of my mouth
i stay needing more
never reaching contentment
feeling it stiffen and stick on my elbows
like icee syrup
a lightening bolt of heat
that runs through the sutures
of the back of my skull
i let out a deep sigh
needing to continue
needing to go deeper
go farther
release and resort to a pile
of used ribbons
loose and maleable
and limp
like my visions of you

its so hard living
existing
human-ing
breathing
it's crazy
you need to have the
mental strength to push
yourself to get through
trauma and past experiences
when in reality
you're weak and
you have a facade
and you're just
your 10-year old self
stuck in an adolescent person
that you would've never fathomed
you'd be in
stuck reading self-help books
from people who feel the same as me
blind leading the blind and you
never wanted to grow old and unsure
and you wish
that peter pan took you
instead and all cartoons have
dark underlying messages and
people huddle around you and ask
what's wrong and
you shrug because
you're not an attention seeker
and you hate love and poetry and
all the things that usually
envelop my being
the giggles and quirks that escape from
my friends become an
undying irritation and now
i wish i could faint and
awake beside
penelope.

i sit by the shade
as we watch the sun dip
into foreign waters,
i glance in your
molasses-coated eyes
your fruit is sweet
to the taste
your touch leaves me satisfied
yearning for more
like freshwater springs in a desert
unreal- like a far fetched dream
i trace your gentle arm and
feel your heartbeat
pumping
rushing
knowing you feel what i
feel
and now what we do
is up
to you..

i watch people when on mulberry,
there is always the little man
that hides in his
shack-type flower shop
extending from the deli
he keeps it closed when bristling winds
fight through the plastic flap that
tardy boyfriends peek through and plead for
orchids when late to their dinners
there's the tall slender man
with a faded stick and poke on his wrist
that takes turns
smoking and drinking his coffee
and hocks up phlegm and shoots out
like a spiderweb
the oblivious little girl with
***** blonde ringlets
steps on it with her new light up skechers
being preoccupied looking at puppies doing their business on
signs that say clean up after your dog

and then i boarded my bus to see the same thing unfold tomorrow.

your touch
is encapsulating
your succinct
glances are
just enough to
keep my soil watered
and love rooted
the poetry flows
colloquially through my arteries
you are only art to me

i take verses from song
of solomon so as to feel
what’s it’s like to be loved
like the shullamite girl
i wrap the verses of isaiah
‘round the rings of my simple fingers
so as not to forget all that is promised
i grasp the verses of revelation
in an unshakable fist
so as not to fear what is to come

/

the chain
is as strong as its weakest link
harmartia
you have oxidized the chains
that had guarded my
mind and heart
you weakened and exposed
the harmartia in me
leaving me ashamed
unforgivable and
unloveable

love is such a distraction
leaves you dizzy
unexpectedly you fell victim
like a child becoming drunk
after consuming
sun-beaten grapes
something we crave and
hate at once
sickening we can’t look at a
garden and not think of their beauty
outweighing that of the mere
botany
not being able to look into a reflection
without seeing their smile
the blurring of the façade you
try to uphold
stripping you vulnerable
and needing reciprocation-
to a cycle of broken lovers
could haves
should haves
would haves
the waves will still crash
the rocks will still erode
the wind will still blow
and you’ll never get
that time back

when my eyes are
watery
that’s when i see the
clearest..









.

can't assimilate myself
into reality
mixing and floating
making friends with these
emotional beings we call companions.
it's beautiful
succinct and scary all at once,
being allowed to exist past every sunrise,
the ability to recreate our existing into living
let me fade like gold-plated silver
while I smile as the earth beneath me curdles and becomes
hollow
like the humans that inhabit it

i’m mellow and my
hair roars and
commands
it secretly envies
pin straight hair
but ella es orgullosa
she won’t say so
i scrunch and apply
leave-ins
and butters
and serums
and locking gels
wash day is a great day
but she needs so much
every curly spring needs tending to
wash day
where i scrub my scalp and
am never surprised when i find
stray bobby pins
falling to the base of the tub..

we loop together
like ivy over broken down cars
full circle once again
we fall out
miss each other and
we sync back into
infatuation
it’s lovely
vain and
impermanent
like the planet
and us within it

man’s garden
of garbage
valueless lottery tickets and
soiled coffee cups
watered with soda and fragments of
Modelo bottle glass shards
we prop up our feet on lawn chairs
and watch it grow

she’s so ugly
oh my gosh look at her
my classmates whisper about the
girl who’s always late
i push my eyes into their
home-y sockets
all i see is black
and toned down speckled
neon blue blotches
looking like adipose tissue
mushing
keeping my sanity contained
cushioned
their voices fade out
the teacher’s does too
drowned out
black waves encapsulate
the scenery
and it’s beautiful
i flow with the tides of
the silent madness of the ocean
i peer out for more but no luck
no boats
no scrambling children by the shore
no kites
no dock.
there’s no escape

she watched toy videos
in the back of the bus
on her dads phone so she would cooperate
as he clipped multicolored sunflower
hair clips to each twist
from the beauty supply
brown skin growing brown hair
from rich roots
grabbing one by one out her bookbag
tedious and tender work
a twist around the back piece and clip
twist and clip
twist and clip
he finished and pulled back in admiration
of his work
she looked up and
looked lovely
just like her mommy
with every heart break he’d be there
every recital
every show and tell
every teacher conference
and she’ll always,
no matter how old she grows
no matter how far she lives,
be his baby girl

the noxious smell of gas from worn out
amusement park rides
the blaring sun making the group picture take longer
whines and groans and chants for iced water
misty cool mornings after the storm
the distinct smell of grandma’s car rides
the waves of nostalgia when you see graf on the walls in williamsburg
the laughter of kids on the swings while walking past parks
remembering the child you used to be,
swinging
escaping reality
knowing those children will be just as lost as you one day
looking at sand
boys legs stretching like taffy
and it’s like we never moved

6,000 islands in greece
17,508 islands in indonesia
200 islands in the maldives
yet you choose to inhabit yourself in
the chaotic paradise of
my mind

why..

calming
watching soap run off your body
with the steady stream of tiny water jets
caressing the shape of my side
dripping down hip dips and wet lips
in perfumed foam down the drain

with every stride
of chalk i make to the board
your hand is following me
you smile and i do in return
right behind me
undoing all i’ve done
i build and
you demolish
i strengthen  and
you weaken
i’m the yarn sweater i made
trying to tuck the
loose strand
while you tug and pull at it without
haste
leaving it to ribbons
of disparity

why must i look broken
for you to believe i am broken
there’s more that meets the eye
yet it’s more comfortable atop
the lash for most-
mental health is real
and how many lavender oil-infused
baths
scented candles
and Daniel Caesar songs will it take
until the self loathing ceases
the dark hooded voices to cease
it’s echoing in my mind
twisted
painted contorted for someone to love
the painting no one understands until one person tilts their head and squints at the canvas
for someone to embrace
and it must be me first.

love is relative
those who search will never find
yet
i stumbled into you.
we’re over yet i thank you
for your presence
scar tissue developed over my
still-beating heart-
making it difficult but not impossible.
i loved you-
don’t you understand?
mounted up on you-
you whispered you’d never dream of hurting me
and like a beautiful fool
i showed you my full hand and you
played me like it was poker
showed me your cards in the end
and i
was the joker.

the house’s light dimmed as each room
from the outside turned off
where the bugs in the walls really came to life
to light
in the dark
the cracks airing out
absorbing moisture from
showers that run a little too hot
there’s spots now
on the ceiling
like when i’d get in trouble as a girl for blowing bubbles on the wood floor
cleanliness over kids memories
‘ but can’t they make memories
without being messy ‘
mom would chuckle as she slapped
the wet mop to the ground in the next room
as i tell her my thought process
i saw the stain on the rug in my room
it was by the hands of the previous owners
of course
and i thought of how i didn’t hurt you
you came damaged
troubled
distressed
and i caught your eye
and i to you
hollow and needed soothing
like aloe vera to the scalp
a release once more
like acupuncture to the nerve
the satisfaction like finding the perfect
last line
for a poem
i saw the stain
and fell in love with you all over again
while my sister asked why i was smiling at the rug

his heart was just a
street food that
people indulge themselves in,
the girls,
like the children they once were,
insisting on using their
chore money to have the delicacy with
powdered sugar and drizzle
atop of his stillbeating *****
she winced and smirked
the sight of it
vulnerable at the fair
his heart juice dribbled on a sleeve
because of her
the thought terrified yet
satisfied her

to be wanted once again..

the pressure to have the
perfect summer
i look at my baby hands-
as if they’ve never laid a finger
on a sponge
the Ajax and sprinkles of water
coagulating into dusty paste
against a tub
the color-
my nails of course-
glistened against the tense rays
of our obnoxious star
‘créme brûlée you say?’
was the color