and you kissed every scar i have
mentally and

physically.

i learned/ i was told in fourth grade
that when you talk really gentle and sweetly
to a plant
it’ll grow faster than if it was in a loud and angry environment.
i was given a small aloe bulb and i kept her,
promised i’ll water her when it’s necessary and a little bit in between
and put her up on the window that catches the most light.
and so i followed through
and so did she.
and now i cut open her prickly yet juicy leaves whenever i need an organic face mask for my hideous adolescent skin.

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..

love that all the sounds above are beautifully muted
when it seems like you're underwater,

it's almost calming..
just what I need in conditions like
these.

drowning will be
my way of finding a
total state of peace.

me and her,
who we'll call Aylah,
dated for a while but
I was abusive.
Physically and mentally
due to my childhood.
A year of putting up with me led
her into therapy
and she soon broke up with me..

After we still spoke from time to time
but she was much more
                 distant
and I don't blame her.
I was a terrible boyfriend to Aya
So to make up for the past..
(And I have improved)
I invited her to lunch with me..
but somehow the conversation spiraled
to how I was a terrible listener
and she wasted a year of her life staying with me..
that I was the reason she was still unstable and
she'll never fall for me again.
I said a couple of things as well..

She didn't respond.
One hour went by.
One day went by.
One week went by.
Until I finally got a text.

"I'm dying now." she said

"Wym?" i said.
I knew she'd never be a victim of self-harm.
I refuse to believe it.
It's just not in her nature.
her sweet, lovable nature
and for a year she put up with me.
She could handle this,
Right?
She wanted space and
that's what I'll give her.
She'd have to be joking.
She probably meant
her phone was dying.

Silly.

i saw a different side to myself
every time we linked up
you were like electric-
my powerhouse in which i thrived off
simple hellos and winks here and there
small talks and strolls on your days off
lighting up my days
showing me all the ways in which i never saw
that i
truly was beautiful..

i love my loneliness.
What I don't love is when people
comment on how they feel about it.
Simple.

-

I appreciate the opportunity of my solitude
in violin.
gives me time to observe and take
note of certain behaviors that
(normal) kids my age acquire.
But it's like,
everyone's wanting to be liked to
they all dress familiar
wearing their savings
rather than saving it for something
worth while
since everything's just a fad now and most-
I can't say all act the same and
they blame it on how they were raised and the neighborhood they grew up in.
Even though I know adults who do the same.
Hopefully they'll grow out of it, like
these adults haven't.
Maybe everyone needs a little lonely
for some social cues.

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

we went to the city and we walked
past the horses and the monuments in the dog parks
past the rollerblading dancers with their obnoxious boom box
and the people asking for change.



i wore a loose romper that afternoon and
you said my *** looked
wavy.

It’s dark where I am.
not metaphorically entirely for once.

I wish I could see his face
if only I could just turn around,
see if I could help him, knowing well of all of my previous efforts
And their failures with each attempt.
I forfeit the idea and instead,
I look to my left and see my parents
holding hands both busy keeping silent
the high school
middle school and
elementary sweethearts.

They stayed together through such hard times.
How long do I have until he realizes that my efforts truly are
worthless, unmoving, and
meaningless..
Does he think this already?
Am I too late?

your smile is my most favorite beautiful thing in the world.






keep smiling for me sugar

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.

i walked outside with poisonous thoughts within my cranium
get over yourself
i went outside in hopes of getting air
youre choking
and switching my focus from you
and also to avoid...you
but you came back



let me disappear.

“I want it to be accurate” she said.

“But nice as well,
you are in love with me aren’t you?”


I wrote.

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

diced yuca
cornered off
three keys to everything
coconut oil
salt n pepper
mixing them in a circular motion
like dominoes
look at the other 3 around the table
and sneer
¡ capicú !
separating diced pieces from the whole pieces
hispana blanca y la negrita bella
division of countries
mix of peoples down generaciones
en el barrios where all our
cultures are
mixed
intertwined
and diced
not exactly sure what
puerto rican is anymore

times of random boxes of mamitas ices poppin up on my doorstep is coming
times of jumping into a bathing suit because a sun shower is on its way and mami isn’t taking us to the community pool- is coming
times of begging my parents to work with my siblings and i and blast the AC just for the car ride going is coming
times of dripping ice cream down my forearm till it gets sticky is coming
summer is coming

will you be back in my arms by then mi cielo..

she stared out at the vast openness of the
sea
so much and so little
as far as she could see
reminding herself of something too familiar..

she stepped onto the ledge of the
ever-sinking boat
and took a step into the ocean
to finally feel something
at last
to nothing
at all.


she looked so beautiful, vulnerable, and willing
all at once
as each air bubble escaped through
those blue lips

not being able to lean on
your shoulder
makes the chill of the morning
even colder.

                 we talk on the phone but when you leave, i feel more alone.

but then i remember your sweet laugh-
more like a cackle..
you’re in my head,
makes me feel like i’m in shackles.

                 while i’d rather us in bed, smiling away at our own thoughts..

we take advantage of the time we have,
even in my imagination you have my hair
in knots and
shirt with spots.

i get more sick
to my stomach
every time the
door opens and

it’s not you.

im enamored with
the thought of death so much that
my demons have crept

into the minds of
my past lovers and they all
have something to say..

i wrote all the things that made my skin crawl first
started off with an ol' list.
-clipped nail remainings on a newly swept floor
-ads
-clingy people
i took a break and i looked out at the bustling people and the streets
and store windows covered in streams of red, orange, and yellow lights.
it was gradually getting dark out.
my cup is almost empty..

the truth was (is) i missed you
and i wrote of the things that bothered me
because not seeing you bothers me.
you make me so happy and we're trying this new thing that involves us being s p a c e d out and i'm not used to it.
me and you are so involved its like i'm not myself without you..
ugh that came out wrong..

i read through our messages from as early as december sixteenth to postpone a mental breakdown
in the car earlier and i giggled at stupid things you'd say but after
the happiness fled from me so quickly and i felt the muscles relax in my cheeks.

my chest feels caved in
as i sit in the midst of chaos
in between a girl with heavy eyeliner and a neon pink bandeau
and a middle-aged man swaying
his eyes aglow

leaving me wondering

where did i go..

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

she was a poisonous flower
among all the delicate posies
and gentle baby’s breath

unable to be felt without gloves
unable to be wafted without a mask

he knew he couldn’t have her
and so his desire grew greater

and passed away with traces of toxic passion in his lungs
and lust on his fingertips

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

girls that wear purses for book bags to school
are the superior race in the hallways
and don’t you dare bump them !
they have a significant gait that commands
attention
they are
the sugar clumps in abuelas café that
she grinds with her spoon
and consumes with her soda crackers

if that makes sense
sense
sEnSe

my head hurts
can you kiss my forehead more often..
don’t be a stranger
there’s a lot of surface area so could you please..

i refer to them as brain kisses
it helps soothe headaches
your energy transfers through your
gentle loosely-puckered lips and dilutes the bad energy
that’s stored in the front of the brain
you’re top of mind
help me

feverous wet lips
caress and glide against each other
relentlessly
inseparable
pulling apart but never apart
reddened cheeks filled with warmth and
desire
wild eyes feasting on seemingly natural inclination
she lies there with starving thighs
eat her up
something in him said
as he goes for the bite

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 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

this morning
i told the flowers
what i’d do for you
and they blossomed

how can you turn a blind eye
to what we could be

i grab your hands and make them latch on
to my thighs
thighs that could give
a dead man life and so i
took your fingers and
trailed them all over
the bumps
scars
stubble
and bruises
telling my story
all of what you don’t hear
choose not to see
yet feel
caress
and ******
to embrace without letup..

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

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

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.

now every time i smell
lemongrass and coconut
i will always remember how you
ghosted on me

and when i lit the wick in my bedroom
i let it crackle and take to the burning match
until a pool of smoldering hot wax developed
and i’d dip my finger in
and watch it solidify
and
then suspend my finger above the kind dancer flame and see it melt back into the candle cup

it’s all just a cycle
it’s going to burn at first but
i would love again.

after the breakup
her heart worked even harder
being that it was beating alone now
no assistance
no butterflies
just involuntary body members
trying to sustain the equilibrium

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

like an explorer to newfound treasure
why venture away from my greatest discovery yet..


your love.



-im not leaving you my dear..

i found myself in the middle of
an intervention with family and friends
alike.
A wrinkled hand with long opal-colored nails
stroked my shoulder.
soon enough a folded chair was cracked open for
concerned persons to tell me their opinion on how
i should’ve done things.

Up first was Eileen.
she looked more clean yet saddened a little..
i saw it in her gentle eyes-
her long eyes that were only brought to life
at the bonfires in the bronx on late nights
when she was supposed to stay at ‘buela’s house.
Tio found out one day and fixed her up real good
yet the gossip in my family spread like wildfire.
She shared a couple of words on how she’s changed for the better
and she should’ve caught herself sooner.
it was the association of her bad friends that got her in trouble.
though i’ve seen her come into my house at midnight
eyes more red than my father’s “tans” when we used to go on vacations together..

her eyes were constantly darting back to Tio for approval of her statements i guess..
i tilted my head ever so slightly to the right and
studied her posture and replayed those words over
trying to see clearly where she put the emphasis.

we both knew she wasn’t convincing anyone.

and for a moment i disliked you less ;
the night a crescent moon appeared
next to venus ;
i felt my bitterness defrost
reluctantly
i let the corners of my lips turn up
making me forget how you’d let me down and
to no avail, you keep me on the side
not by yours of course and
i was right once again.

i’m not one to fall into these things
these are for foolish girls who put faith in the stupidest boys thinking that they were put on this earth- to mold somebody’s son into a man (?)
i honestly never thought it’d end- but when
it’s too good to be true
it is.
and to think i’d be the one that you wanted and
don’t tell them all the good i did for you because i won’t look like the bad guy anymore.
but you probably have that covered.

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

even when wiping away tears,

you ridicule me about how there’s bigger things for me

to cry about.