guava

overripe dulzura     melts
over   chapped lips  &
the  sting   is
so  good. you lick   the thick
sweetness off   your fingers
& laugh with   your   belly on my    lap
we enjoy summer     there

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me quemas

“inhale, in hell there’s heaven.” – Frank Ocean

i used to warm my hands by you,
a fireplace. it was easy to forget that fire burns
from up close. i rationalized my burns as
markers of intimacy–once, I felt my hands
burn into ashes, and the pain warmed
your absence. remnants of me mingled with
memories of you and
i almost forgot about loneliness

80’s family portrait

a 6 foot tall young man squints at the camera.
wispy brown hair frames his sun burnt face
and his thick moustache, as coarse a broom,
sits upon his lips. he wears a white polo shirt
and baggy blue jeans. sandals with socks.
his gut hangs over his belt. he is my father.

beside him is my mother. she is brown like almonds
and has puffy hair like lucille ball. she is a petite woman,
and her smile overwhelms her face. burgundy lipstick
shines her lips. she wears an oversized sweatshirt
with an enamoured taz and his wife–mrs. taz playfully
responds in bold, yellow letters–oh, you devil!

they are fearless. confident about tomorrow.
the world is moving and they are the only ones
standing still. they are young and in love.

You Bring Out the Monster in Me

you bring out the monster in me.

your llantos desesperados echo in a barren desert
trying to find someone who will listen.
you pause at the sound of an awakening–
there is a rumbling beneath the yellow sands.

lizards, scorpions, and snakes burrow in the sand dunes;
cacti recoil into the blankets of sand;
the soft whistling winds shrink back into the sky.

silence.
the sands tell me you are gone.
i pretend i don’t know how.

you bring out the monster in me.

in the abyss of my subconscious,
where dreams and nightmares and reality are indistinguishable
i watch the desert swallow you whole. you disintegrate
into the mounds of hot sand, pleading a subdued sun
for mercy.

the night winds are faint with your echo.

waiting

i look for you everywhere:
online, on the metro, at the corner store,
outside my house, where i saw you last.

it is midnight and i still look. i check outside the window,
beyond the door, on my phone–i don’t see you. i
keep looking not knowing if you want to be found.

i surrender to the ease of my bed sheets.
the smell of you lingers
on an old pillow and
i find you