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. 

Golden.

She saw her reflection in the words spilled on the page
She looked in the mirror and saw a reflection she’d never seen before
Covered in a garden of
sunflowers and roses
babies breath and tulips

I’ve delicately painted her in ways my heart feels
I’ve painted her in ways my eyes see
And ways my hands touch

Summer sings in me when I look at her
Like music to my ears when she speaks
Like symphonies play when she laughs

I’m losing my head
watching her take off her insecurities
and undressing all her dreams

I’m losing my head
because I’ve painted her in words I cannot speak
so here they are in words
in hopes that they’ll last forever

and ever and ever and ever.

xxcv.

Bronx Salons.

To Infinity.