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. 

#nowplaying: Foolish - Ashanti

time and time again,
I’m picking up my phone
toying with the idea of texting you
contemplating if I’m really as strong as i think

4pm: hey
back space delete
8 pm: i miss you
back space delete
11 pm: come over

I guess, I’m not.
And you come over
and you consume me
and overcome me
and i get lost in all that you don’t give me

And then you leave
and all that lingers on my body
is the confusion as to where
we must have miscommunicated
bc if I’m an option,
you should be one too

But instead you’re still in my phone
as “Do Not Call”
Until the day I become



I hear that Sundays are for lovers.

One Day.