“once bloomed”

Rotting buds and once bloomed petals. I push my thumb in. Urging for wetness. Yet met with a brittle sea of thirsty soil. I bring my nose towards the brown patches, inhaling deeply. Unafraid and yearning for a familiar smell. I pluck the tiny green leaves, put them in my pocket. My tongue glides the tip of my thumb. A familiar taste. I put the plant in a glass jar. I call it “us.” I leave it there. I walk away.

When Love Turns to Something Else.

“Here You Are”

“Here You Are”

my poems don’t rhyme anymore
they fall and they rise
or they keep falling
or keep rising
they twist your mouth
into uncomfortable shapes
they are awkward
unkind, they make sense
only to me
but still i wrap them
in myself
and gift them to you
the one with bright eyes
squinting in wonder
asking which words
which sounds
fit together
when do you pause
when can your tongue rest
you do not know
but still
here you are

“Images of My Mother”

“Images of My Mother”

I want to tattoo my body
with the image of my mother
watch my hands master spices
see my calves grow in size
so I too can run marathons
with four babies on my shoulders

When my voice turns into hers
My tongue will grow heavy
with tastes of herbs and te amo‘s
watch my whispers soothe cyclones
remind all daughters to breathe
again and again

When I crawl into her skin
and I taste the church’s wine
I see God underneath my eyelids
feel the lord’s blood join our own
and the darkness would feel warm
for the first time

I want to tattoo my body
with the image of my mother
so when I look in my reflection
I can finally believe
I too have the strength
of a thousand women

A Declaration of Self Love

A Declaration of Self Love

I’m familiar negotiating who I am to please others. Some may call me inauthentic, I call this self-protection. However, I have burned through my shields. Too tired to be exhausted, this continuous disguise has faded. It’s time I accept myself and no longer sacrifice self-love for overall acceptance.

The mask I wear runs deeper than my foundation, and so today I decide to shift my narrative. I am no longer a finished product of what I’ve been through, I am a project continuously craving care, love, and attention. Today, I am proudly high maintenance. I must treat my body with the ultimate fragility. I understand I am the only constant character in my life. I will contribute only to my self preservation. Tonight, in my sweat pants and coiled hair I am nothing less than a Queen.

I deserve to be heard. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to be royalty.

12:46am, February 28th, 2016 the minute I unapologetically decided to love myself