My tears aided me as glitter and paint / flaked and fluttered off my face, / I would thank them later.

And to be called “she” at the bar that you were too young to get into / And then, in that moment, to know that they’re not even talking to you, really. /They’re not even talking to you. / You’re not even there at all.

Mom really starts to cry, / because when she was 12, grandma said / You’re too old and threw away her Barbie dolls. /I’m nineteen now, and I still sleep with my doll.

Your eyes were not your best / feature, still, I can’t help / but to search for them in / the passing of crowds.

I am exhausted and scared and down on my knees for a miracle. My brother...how amazing and strong and brave can one person be when they are so undeserving of the hand dealt them? And now I know a genuine hero.

I’m not pregnant, but the time is coming sooner than later. Maybe you’ll be here on earth next year or the year after. Can you see us from where you are right now? Do you see us worrying about your future and your health? Are you considering other, less anxious people to be your parents? Do you ever wonder if we will love you?

But there you were, on the floor of a white pick up truck, the seats lifted in the back revealing the metal bolts underneath. No candles, just shadows. No waves, just cars driving by. No trust, just fearful surrender. But the vulnerability overlaps, containing its other, more hostile definition. 

If life is a game, then love's a co-op walkthrough. / You can't choose someone who'll drop / you.

Maybe this world isn’t built for you and me… / We were never designed to fit the mould / We were never this or never that / Too much of this and not enough of that.

Rare magnificence, / One authentic black girl, / Chiseled to perfection. / Stride with your chin up, / Pure valor in every step.

Sometimes walls cannot be taken down / with a hammer. / Sometimes you must allow yourself / to seep through them / slowly.

Her gentle heart toughens up and her deep  bark comes out each time we pass another four-legged friend, only for her to remind them that she is still an alpha at heart. Each time we let out a little chuckle as we redirect her to the path. That  girl, we’d always say.  

It was easier to believe that I was guilty for sitting in an American classroom and that the miles between my native home and los Estados Unidos were as far as I could go. But I was wrong because illegal didn’t mean incapable or impossible, it meant that my parents fought and continue to fight the impossible to raise my possibilities.

Now, when I drive to my own job at two or three or four in the morning, and I stop at a red light, I expect to see my mother in the car next to me. I expect to see plastic bags filling the back seat, pressing against the windows. I expect to see headlines of newspapers that are going out of business because everything is electronic, which is good because that means it's sustainable and that's exactly why my job exists. 

I am but a joke that falls flat/
in a crowd/ the bleeding fruit/
of my tongue/ to rot unopen/

And though the world has grown, / I have never publicly been that / me again. That me is in a [sealed grey / box], with a black x in the corner, / in a dark closet, in a dark room. 

Yesterday I asked all my inamoratos / to send me nudes, unspoken, bereft of the light of the days gone past

I rebuilt that house a dozen times and counting. Each time, I pieced that broken pitcher back together, meticulously, shard on shard, sliver upon sliver. I’m doing it right now with my bare hands and I hope you remember these blisters.

I can’t stay this time, I remind our grandmother, who will return to the role of caregiver once I walk out this door. Maybe it’s a crack in the foundation, the fact that my mother moved in with her months ago to take care of our aging grandmother and her dying home, and now the roles have reversed, as the curve of sobriety moves again and again.

To me, “being enough” became synonymous with excellence, with domination. And somehow, I guess I figured that, to be good enough, I had to be “better than.” Better than my friends, better than the other kids at school. Better.