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. 

Road Trippin'

I’d like to see you in my passenger seat, stripped of insecurities, responsibilities, and adversities; receptive to the world in a way where they don’t reflect the concrete or the passing trains. Where you’re free from the headphones covering your ears but the music instead blends with the wind. Open in a way where the browns in your eyes mix like honey and reflect the meadows of the sun kissing the flowers on the side of the road. 

As your head turns to me, your hair flows over your face and I can only get snippets of your lit up eyes, a bit of your rosy cheeks, and a second of your delicate pink lips. You speak but I don’t answer the first time just to hear your voice again. Your feet on the dashboard, your thighs: soft like dipped in vanilla. 

The calm I felt vibrating from soul brought back your innocence.

xxcv.

Good Mornings.

The Magic of Time.