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. 

4:27 AM

Where do you lay your mind? On a Tuesday, 4:27AM on the floor, leaning against your bed, writing on the backs of old envelopes and crumbled up napkins. You find it easier to trade in your heart for kisses down the back of your neck and words that drown your lungs.

You question your goodness in terms of what the world thinks and fail to realize that your goodness doesn’t belong in the hands of the ones who desecrate it. You are an enigma and people fail to realize that while you crave understanding – all they crave is your body.

So, where do you lay your heart when you can’t breathe because their words are crawling on your walls, their voices in your headphones, their letters in your books, and your nights become mornings and you lose sight of yourself?

Because it’s now 8AM and the sun has risen and your eyes won’t shut and your eyeliner is smudged and your shirt is off your shoulder, and your curls are in your face and you still question, where the fuck do you lay your heart when you can’t hold in your ribcage and it is combusting inside of you and falling through your eyes and onto this paper…



Ten Year Old on Drugs

“For All Intents and Purposes, I am a Woman”