My hand tells stories
before my mouth finds words
rosary wrapped in ink,
just like my father’s,
a chain that frees me
as it reminds me
of faith, pain, bloodline,
and this life I’m learning to live.

LIVE / LIFE
etched across my knuckles,
a vow I whisper to myself,
a tribute to Juice’s beats
that spoke my unspoken grief,
the echo that lingers
when every note falls silent.

I left once,
but my soul stayed behind
Phoenix in body,
Florida in my heart,
brakes held since sixteen
under the weight
of things no kid should bear.

I’ve bled in conversations
that never heard me;
loved people who only saw
the parts they wanted.
I cut ties
but not before the ache
cut deeper.

Loyalty is my scar,
visible only to those
who look close enough
and I remember:
my dad, my siblings,
even the ex I couldn’t forget.

I don’t trust easy
but I haven’t stopped feeling;
I just learned
where to hide the ache.

I swagger in my jokes,
walk silent in the crowd,
carry more than my weight
but beneath it all
there’s something soft,
like my unfinished rose,
still blooming,
still becoming.

I’ve been stuck
but never broken;
alone
but never empty
and every day
I choose to keep moving
even when the world
doesn’t cheer.

That’s my strength:
not just survival,
but transformation
the slow becoming
of someone who finally
chooses themselves
every
****
time.