native new yorker with dominican roots. writer of all things love, life, family, sex, friends and everything in between. a not so secret obsession with stringing along words to form perfect sentences - reflecting what the mouth can't say. 

I hear that Sundays are for lovers.

I go to church on Sunday mornings

I read the scripture written on her body 

with my fingertips

And listen to the proclamation in her voice

with my tongue 

She inhales. 

And she exhales.  

oh my god. 

A proclamation designed to make me tremble

And open up the skies

Shake my soul around

Like god himself can save her from my love

The mixtape.

#nowplaying: Foolish - Ashanti