poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
quartered, sliced like a tomato, red, bloody, morphed into hatred, but with all this horror, I am that bruja, The one with brail written in all her details, Skin and shadows, formed like riverbeds, laying and growing from monstrosity, yet its beautiful now, there are eyes with opportunity, across courtyards blooming in life, in […]