I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm cuz I’d rather be left for dead than wondering what thunder sounds like.

The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.

Let me also say I wanna make you sandwhiches,And soup,And peanut butter cookies,Though, the truth is peanutbutter is actually really bad for you ’cause they grow peanuts in old cotton fields to clean the toxins...

I wrote too many poems in a language I did not yet know how to speak.

I know this world is far from perfect.I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.But every ocean has a shorelineand every shoreline has...