they leave
and act like it never happened
they come back
and act like they never left




ghosts

we used to have everything in common
now all we share is the refrigerator

ice cold baby
ice cold

keeping money is like vanity
my mother says with a cider beer in her left
as my father deals the poker chips.
texas hold ‘em, you ready?
he says brushing past my mothers routine complaints..

its useless- a waste..
i watch my mother eye the stack of bills from across the room
like seeing your friend tell the same joke for the third time waiting for your reaction,
everyone gets two cards and you can look at them
and get rid of the card you find the least valuable
he says

the tension in the room is unbearable like a thick cloud
so i sneak away
to avoid being asked my opinion.

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

the heavens looking down see
black ominous umbrellas
scurrying about- the animals we are
seeking refuge beneath bodega quality umbrellas
flimsy like the faith i had in you
but may you prove me wrong, loved one
in this cluttered concrete jungle

familiarity
conformity
unoriginal-ality but in reality we
all have places to be and why stand out in the rain?

uninvited water droplets from sky
penetrate pantyhose and
the window plants of overpriced brownstones
the allure of rain by all natural individuals
see nourishment soon to unfold
beauty in baby’s toes stomping in mud
fishing for worms that wriggle with discomfort
gardener of words
rain or shine
she knew how to put a feeling into
gentle yet tasteful prose.

my left heel itches
i wish you never texted me what you did
that one afternoon freshman year
when i was in the library
i looked at my tiny phone with clammy hands
my clear nails glistening
and i could almost taste the warm light streaming in from the window above the nonfiction shelf
feeding my face
i didn’t eat at all that day

i loved you
but i didn’t want you to say it..

whyd you say it

beneath your small and rough exterior
you’re so sweet and your disposition feels so familiar.

we’ve met before

just not in this lifetime.
let us love like you knew this for some time.

Raj was so conservative
She always wore
so many layers
Even on the hottest days
in summer
in summer I rarely saw her
wearing skin
even when my friends from the barrio opened up the hydrant and we played in the street in our bathing suits
Raj they asked me for one day
I think back and
cower over what has
become of my poor friend
Raj
She was always covered up
that I rarely saw her
but to think now
I'll never
see her
again

im the flower on the other side of the garden
the one that your neighbor forgets to trim and so weeds grow around me and
soon’ll choke me out of existence
all you do is feel sorry for me from your side

never mentioning my name..

she didn’t go after him
because he was easy to apprehend

it was no challenge

and that’s just no fun..

you risk tears if you let yourself be tamed
the fox say-ed
the little prince remained
for some time exchanged
names and soon gained
a friend.
the little prince changed
rather than stay the same
to train
the fox. it soon became
time however that he needed to explain
his plan of him going away.
the fox was deeply pained
yet maintained
his supportive claim.
the fox remained
and things stayed the same
yet both of their wishes are stained
of possibly being joined back together again

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

sinful man
bathing in the jezebel juice
muffled sounds of pounding fists on flesh
and pooling blood beneath it
to be covered up by skin-toned cream
he used to love
but downs brown bottles and spends
his nights near corner stores..
wretched 40s in paper bags that don’t mask a thing
comes home when he feels like
smelling of Dulce, the lady from the corner,
and commands a room
liquified demons
for they have him wrapped around the neck
silently begging for his life back
liver failing and heart with it
a single tear running down his face
only thinking of his mother
he blames his father
he wasn’t supposed to be this way
he was supposed to be successful and happy in his fathers eyes
black army man that never took no for an answer
6’3” army man
gave him siblings growing up all the same block
how considerate
all the neighbors kids on grave street were blood
ock legs and broad shouldered army man
when he came around the women on the block kept quiet
as if all sworn to secrecy of their forbidden affairs
he uses his faulty upbringing as an excuse to be the failure that he is
serious army man
never owed money to anybody
and never said excuse me during passing because
just with one look you knew
he was always going to go off unapologetically

i walk into the tightly packed condo
and the unwelcomed smell punches me in the face and one word pops up

perníl

oh and how could my olfactory senses be so ignorant
and try to blind the
cinnamon and lavender incense.
such a great mix.

i’m so tired of everything,
seeing the familiar faces and hearing from those that i haven’t seen in years
that it looks like i haven’t been eating as much.
i get a little cheek pinch and reassurance from mis tíos
that they’d gladly fight any guy that breaks my heart
and how they can’t wait for me to start driving so i can take my grandma places
my uncle’s new novía asks if my parents let me date
and then if i’m dating and how it’s just better if i’m single
because she doesn’t want to find out i’m living like a girl from Knickerbocker.
and then i get a poke from a passing príma
asking me how i dance and that when i was younger i always used to
walk around w ******* and my real thick afro
and then she’d exit but before she did
she’d blow the hookah vapor into my face and start up another convo.
while she leaves me coughing in a fog of
strawberry cheesecake flavored air.

it’s family though
you have to love them
no matter what they’re like..

yeah right.

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 packed my things
i had enough
it was pouring outside with a dreary overhead of clouds
the angels telling me

it’s not too late to turn back..

i had no umbrella
nevertheless
i took the bus that i got to soonest
and shut out the practicality
of the situation at hand.

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 take pride in my roots
I take pride in my melanin
And my ancestors
All those who have persevered
To get me to where I am today.
I take pride en mi pelo rizo
Gracias a Dios..

I carry my culture in my curls to
The poetry that runs through my
Veins
rushing
pulsing
sweat on the furrow of thy lip
beading
ache of the toil in their fieldwork
sweet
azucar negra
my ancestors blood was sweeter
they still don’t want us here
but some things never change
but we are able
and no beautiful ignorant person
Will ever take that away.

im melancholic
best friend of two years moved away
without a word.
got cut off by those who'd **** for me

right?
cuz why not.
we're just in the mood to break hearts
and make them cry to their mothers and
make them binge netflix and
read a whole lotta novels not settling for one
because why be sensical when
you have
heartbreakers who can relieve you of
that job.

she wrote all there was to write
and she moved to song that her father used to listen to
beach rock
their favorite.
she missed him

she looked up from her desk
then to the side at the waste paper basket
full of failed poems..
walked over to her bed

and kept one finger on a low key
on his Casio until something struck her.

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.

shes slowly dying inside, and
no one can tell
She wants to
run.
from the daily affairs
that choke her
of her
sanity
Its always do this,
but dont do it now
not yet
and dont take too long with it
and make sure you do this
when you say that
because imagine what everyonell
think of you if you did say or do that
Its too much to process/handle
when do you have time to
sleep?
to eat?
to recreate?
theres no purpose to keep
going..to keep my strained pulse beating..
She wants to run to the
farthest point on the Earth
possibly off..
but why she feels this way nobody knows
"its just the turbulent teenage years"
they said
so she did run
and nobody
noticed...
She started to fade away every weekend
when she was under the **** moon
no one could hold her down
when she felt like flying
like
soaring..
until she had enough

and smoothly descended back to

her ground

she was unhappy really-
she wanted so much more
i became acquainted with her at a house party
never impressed
always ready to go- i had conversed with her
until she begged me to take her away from that dreadful place.

and i did just so,
your honor.

we finally bought a house,
it was the one our families rented out for vacation one summer.
that was notable since it was the one we’d hurry to run away from
trail down to the beach and
we made a fire on the sand.
of course we had to set up a tent and
we were back by morning but every now and then we’d look up through the yellow windowsill to see if the lights were on,
just making sure no one noticed we were gone.

through the yellow windowsill
we’d exchange faces while i was in the house
doing the dishes and you’d taunt me
you’d be outside
soaked of your own sweat after skateboarding.
your sweat didn’t stop you from stealing a kiss before you left me alone once again.


through my windowsill though,
the scenery gets darker,
the drizzling rain progressed into windy showers
and it doesn’t feel like i’m here right now.
the oceans waves are at the highest tides now.
crashing.
unforgiving.
seeming almost unstoppable.
i think i need to slow down.
i think fantasy is what i want but reality is what i need
or what we need..

i think i should get my body off the edge of the windowsill.
my imagination is rapid.
help me my love..
my grip is getting slippery..
i’m bound to fall..

3 times meeting in person
a homeschooled kid
fell in love with me within
2 months of meeting me
all that alone time to fall in love with
1 version of me
tall blonde boy w a tinge of spanish roots
the coquí
that sung too much y me cansé

I watch outside the car
as I pretend that all the raindrops that scatter
across the windshield collect and streak down the window
are racing.

And only he is on my mind.
All of our memories and moments collecting at the bottom..
My mind fleeting of such temporary happiness.

Separation sometimes helps people learn to miss others.
And I swear I've learned my lesson..
I just need him to come
back..
Amy Winehouse is breaking the silence in the car
and as she got me thinking
since I'm just so needy for him..
will he still love me
tomorrow..

there are bad boys
and bad girls in our world
then there are good girls
and good guys.
then there are those
who changed who they are
just for their lover
and felt they wouldnt be compatible
if they didnt change their ways.
but the bad girls
are all trouble
the bad boys
are only here to hurt
potential lovers.
bad boys who like to throw the word
love
around
which becomes an
emotional massacre for many.
bad girls hurt bad boys and
then move on like nobody's business
these bad boys start to notice the grand perpective and end up as
good guys
good guys that know how to treat a girl
how he should
good guys that try not to fall in too deep
too soon in attempt to not repeat the past.
good guys that have a perfect balance
of good and bad
because they know what its like
to be the bad guy.

oh my love
ive told you ive been hurt plenty
and i may not be the best
out of the rest
but ive been told im
unforgettable...
still
dont forget me
for ive changed myself for you
and if you leave
i wouldnt know how to be with someone
without tasting you
like blood in my mouth

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

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.

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’m in the dark,
and i’m terrified..
i try to close my eyes and not think about it
but my eyes keep opening..


i swear there’s monsters
coming out of my wall.

wanna blow o’s in a rental while listening to
Amy Winehouse

wanna curl up on your lap while you teach me
how to play fortnite.

wanna wear thigh high socks and your chain
and be your “wicked *****”
with scenes of us shown in sepia

wanna wear baggy ripped jeans,
crew socks, a slicked bun, and a baby tee
and take ***** backpack clique pics..
i could just go on..

anoche i had a dream that there were really bad thunderstorms
and so after every rumble of the storm
i’d count
one mississippi, two mississippi
three mississippi, four mississippi
and i woke up and you weren’t by my side
and i was worried and you know how careful i get
and i turned off all the acs
and took out all the chargers
      boom
one mississippi, two mississippi
three mississippi
i look for your keys and they’re not here
only your imprint on the bed and i’m frantic..
Bruno is whimpering so i let him hop up on the bed as i stroke his back..
but then i heard my name from the outside
       boom
one mississippi, two mississippi
and it was calling me from a window from the top floor of the house across
from me
and it was you
but there was no more time left
       boom
one mississippi

i saw you the other day
but i miss you already,
I told you i was gonna write about it
and look i did.
I told you i was gonna be
sad the next day because something’ll come up
and look it did.

it always does.

i want to close my eyes and open them
to when you were with me
in the bitter cold playing staring contests
with the brisk wind hitting us both
and we’d laugh at each other when
we’d make stupid scrunched up faces
and then the tearing came next and of course
you’d win.
i’m terrible at games.
you’d nestle up in my neck and tell me it’s okay
but to **** it up cuz no one likes a sore loser
and i’d reply with an “oh yeah?!” wearing a crazed face and then we’d both laugh..

then the laughter would subside and
our chests, more like your chest and my head would touch.
then our knees, more like your knees and my thighs would touch.
and it’s like the atmosphere got warmer
just for us two.

knowing that as odd as it sounds,
the love that we have,
or at least feels genuine,
is so real.
so i plead for you
to not leave.


but by accident
i closed my eyes for too long
i opened them quickly but too late.
i’m back here now.
in a ball.
laying on my parents bed
trying to continue that daydream but still incapable..

let our love be sustainable..

why do i feel like writing is the only proper
means of expression for myself?
why do i have trust issues?
i always need to look at people twice,
and still often because people themselves alter so much in a lifetime there is something new to be observed in them constantly
why does he keep coming back to me after all ive put him through?
the real reason...
why does he make my thoughts jump from admiration, to then love, to then thoughts of matrimony?
its a little odd honestly how i can come up with questions like these in a single moment.
but its what you wanted to hear.
you didnt want my pain and baggage to to be only on me
but on you too.
which is why you kept reading this.
these are thoughts that cross my mind when i feel unworthy of living
or just in a contemplative mood
even this silent violence makes my days quite somber
i cant put into words but yes
i do feel like i want to put the world on pause sometimes
and i know im not the only one that feels this way
so dont look at this poem like a fat kid looking at kale chips
that is why you see me
but sometimes
not there
sometimes quiet is violent

we did red wine face masks and
after she used mamís’ shiseido eye cream without asking

que rebelde i told her
her face started to change
lips started to curl

no me hablas así
no soy tu amigíta..
Got it?

si permiso ‘uela..






at least i tried to bond

..
and there was this tranquility that
draped over both the decaying dead and alive bodies
like a thin blanket attempting to reassure both sides
that there is more to life than this..

she almost looked
prosthetic
if i never spoke to her
if i never felt
her
if i never spoke to
her.

she seemed programmed.
She laughed and smiled and nodded
and laughed some more
little did anyone know
it pained her everytime.

She was present
but not present.
very outgoing
when she knew
eyes were on her.

behind closed doors,
she was the most creative mind
only limited by
her fear of judgement.
she kept her abilities and talents hidden
under her pillow
in the journal she got from her father
on her sixth birthday
right before the
big fight.

dangerous
poisonous
thoughts started bubbling slowly within her
like a virus
viciously spreading
while she tried to fight it back
but it just
overwhelmed her
like a drug flowing within her
like a small yet potent dose
working its magic,
doing great things to her.

she started to want to
be wanted.
though no one said
anything
except the usual.
she didnt want to fall into the scene-
disguised by
popular kids and bullies
mixed in together.

She wanted to be noticed.
But she never let anyone
have the opportunity to notice her.
She started dressing different.
she started acting different.
started
talking
different
Eventually, she left everyone.
Heck, she didnt
have to be afraid
anymore.

cant bother a girl thats gone

the small dosage
surely
did great things..

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..

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..

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..

living is so expensive.
moms working two jobs and
dads doing overtime weekly now and
i little myself too much
already knowing of my parents expenses,
i don’t think about things that i may want,
knowing we probably can’t afford it.
Like why go online shopping and let the items sit in your cart
knowing well you aren’t in the position to purchase anything
and when you stumble upon it it’s saddening to an extent.
“borderline depressing”
mom says.
“that’s just how life is”
dad says as he pours a *** of hot water
into my sisters lukewarm bath.

heartache and debt
the cost of living.

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

i sit by the shore
with each tide that rolls in
soaking my jeans to the salty waters kiss
i look down at the wet sand that gets pulled to the center of the ocean
by the command of the moon and at least
it has an immovable sense of calmness
but again everything is relative
i take a step in
inviting myself
intruding peaceful ripples to ripples now tailored to fit around the circumference of each leg like pegs in a triangular shaped board at ******* barrel
i shove my fist into the ground and the granules scrape against my knuckles
that’ll sting later..impulsive..
just like we were..
past tense
but we’re grown now or at least we’re expected to be

i take a step further in
i reached for a handful of the wet sand and
smudged it onto my legs
unconventional art
like peoples tags in graffiti and skateboard stickers on the doors of abandoned buildings in disturbed neighborhoods
showing culture in cities
splashes of individuality beyond a zip code
disrupt
organized disorganization
and i’m silently drowning but i see you from the shore
or a figment of my ongoing untamed imagination
you smirked
you still would say that you didn’t mean to- you were daydreaming-
focusing on the scenery than the whole episode- ‘your bad tho- it was your bad’

i begged for my life back
and you shrugged your shoulders and went on walking back to the docks..
i hated you from the moment i contemplated even treading the shore and you knew how the evening would go as soon as you caught sight of me.

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.