October 17, 2018

There’s a kind of

Twinkle in the heaters

After being asleep

For so long.

They warm their voices

Stretch their brittle bones

And get ready for winter.

They start out the evening

With a quiet

And gentle

Song and dance to say



August 13, 2018

You get so used to being alone, with all of its beauties and frustrations. It grows comfortable like a second skin. Then as soon as someone disrupts that — breaks the silence of a narrative you’ve been building in your head over and over and over — it feels. Strange. They hold the body you have spent weeks, months, or however long building an armor around. They ask you to soften. It is both sweet and all at once heartbreaking. You’ve gotten used to the lies, the flowers we tell each other to uphold the preservation, the appearance, of love or admiration. When at the heart of it we are animals. We want sex. We want warmth. We are children who need to be held. So when the buzz wears off and you are quiet in each other’s arms, you hear only your heartbeats, your breath, and the boom of your own thoughts reminding you that it’s likely a lie — nothing special, a fantasy or momentary comfort — that you shouldn’t trust anyone, and go back to being alone.

July 31, 2018

I feel you underneath my skin.

The bits and pieces I knew about you

Fall out of my mouth

And I try to take them

And rebuild some semblance

Of a man I didn’t know.


It’s been 3 years since you died

Today I wondered how you and Grandma

Fell in love.

I questioned quietly to myself,

What she thought when she first saw you.

I knew your voice to be low and harsh,

But when you were young,

Was it ever gentle?


To me. Being Mexican.

Is letting you be a ghost inside me.

To me. Being Mexican

Is letting myself float through a history

I hope to one day understand.

To me. Being Mexican

Is being apart of your family at all.


I feel you underneath,

And in every inch

Of my skin.

And though I may not always see you

You are always there.

Last Date

I repeat you over and over in my mind

You’re my favorite record

The only tape I held onto in the move.

I press play on you pulling me closer

I slow it down on the part where you

Kiss my neck, and unbutton my dress.

The only soundtrack was our breath and some scattered giggles.

I watch in time as we play back and forth

Like two young cubs

I fast forward to us in bed, simple, caressed in each other’s arms

Two strangers

Peaceful and innocent after making a pact

To take it slow.

But we didn’t take it anywhere

And that’s no ones fault.

So I end it there, and rewind to the very beginning

And play you over and over in my mind.

Slipped My Mind

I forgot to take my meds

And so I feel like a monster

Some creature from under

The depths of the water.

A troll who is forced out

Of its dark little cave

And trying to fit in

Among those

Who aren’t trolls —

Who don’t need to take meds

I forgot to take my meds

And so my brain is shaking

And I feel like I’m gonna throw up

I’ve spent all day crying

And trying to sleep

So I didn’t eat

And my body is confused.


I forgot to take my meds

Because for a moment

Things seemed so ok

I forgot

That I take meds.

Dec. 5 ’16

Maybe I was wrong

Perhaps you come to me still

As an opportunity to let something seep out

Like you are a glass too full, and I am here happily willing to sip the edges and bring you balance.

I am safe. I am an ear and a kiss. I let you look at me,

Just look at me,

When maybe most people desire only lust.

Maybe I am looking at this all wrong. Because last night

We dance

With our words

Around the subject of


Love, love, the forbidden word

But we said it. Not to each other. Not for each other. Or maybe. For each other.

We threw it out hoping each other would catch as it floated in the stagnant air.

We argued about feeling

I thought maybe I didn’t want to be a player in this game we are playing

And yes. Maybe this is all apart of your deceitful ploy

Maybe this is your usual round and I, like any other hopeless romantic and desperately grasping at some sort of string to dangle from

No matter how frail.


Maybe. I am a path you are tip-toeing down, afraid of where it may lead. I yearn to think that I am an adventure you are daring to take on. And soon enough you’ll find yourself lost at sea and navigating the storm and excited and scared to see if you’ll die in the turbulence or make it out alive but still gasping for air.