when i was younger i’d ask the tooth fairy y el raton for a book rather than money
id place my perfect pearly yellow tooth on my nightstand with the flowers engraved on the sides
and i’d keep the letter containing shaky writing close by so they don’t miss my request and leave a quarter by accident
they’d work together to get me a book,
diary of a wimpy kid, if you give a mouse a cookie, the boxcar children.
a book costs a lot more than the teeth-takers make from taking a single smelly tooth,
so they weren’t making quite a profit off of me
but oh my brown eyes would wake and lids would spread wide
as I see the new book that i’d get to read
to my second grade classroom of troublemakers
that would only calm down if i read them a book before they left to go home at three
i’d tap the heel of my flat shoe the same way my teacher did
and stumble over words i wasn’t taught to read yet
i know every kid asked for money
but i asked for words that contained more value than Abraham Lincoln did on a piece of wrinkled paper
if you give a child a book,
they will plant their seed and rise.
and even knowledge can disguise itself as a fun little book
given in exchange for a single smelly tooth

Sometimes I still wonder
If you continue to use the 24 dollar mascara
That made my eyelashes look stumpy
Like plump tree stumps
With rings inside to show the life that wasn’t worth living
When you’re born to be chopped into a stump.

I wonder if your eyes still close when you smile
And if your dimples still show when you’re surprised,
Or when you’d hear gossip when it wasn’t meant for your ears to drink.
I wonder if your nails still grow fast
And train for a competition against the flash
They would always win.

I wonder if you kept the handwritten letters
The alphabet was scrambled into configurations and passwords of inside jokes meant just for you
And me
And I would tell you every year how grateful I was to have a best friend that didn’t mind staring at my high bun every day.  

I wonder if you think of all the memories we made
And all the secrets I spilled
Or all the times our mouths couldn’t contain the addictive drug of laughter as our eyes spoke in parseltongue.

I wonder if you wish we’d stayed friends
And worked through the silent bystander issues
But we never ******* fought.
So we didn’t know what to do except let go
Because it felt too hard to hold onto a friendship that statistics said would grow apart

At age 16 or even 86
I will never regret the times we had
When we were kids
And didn’t know who we were so we chose to follow each other
Now I laugh at all the ******* we got away with as ‘’honors’’ students
And I’ll laugh at that too when I'm old in a wooden rocking chair staring brainlessly at the pretty view
Or I might not
In case I don’t make it to 86
Or my head is filled with everything but the memory of you.

I have memories of laying in my bed,
Beneath the Bobby Jack monkey covers.
My head rested on the backboard with roses,
The pace of my mom's breathing was a comforting sound to me
As her nimble fingers would pinch and scratch my back
I would drift to sleep.

And as I grew older
My bedtime ritual no longer required three people
I stopped begging my dad to sit at the foot of my bed
The thick books translated to Spanish  
With magical endings and happy characters got dusty
There were only the prints of my dad's big hands turning the pages
And the remembrance of my eyelids flickering
Attempting to stay awake so that I could hear again how Cinderella got her Prince Charming

The bedtime stories stopped and I didn’t remember when they’d begun
A dip formed at the corner of my bed where my dad had sat but I didn’t want the extra space
I started sleeping with my back to the wall and the coolness was my new comfort
I didn’t really have to hear what would happen if you gave a mouse a cookie, right?
The stories stay the same anyway.
The breathing of three became one
Meditation music flew through the air
So I learned a new way to swim into the oceans of deep sleep.

One night my mom slept with me again
I wanted to remember what bedtime was like before I forced myself to grow up.
She reached to pinch my back
The single apple that had been my daily breakfast didn’t give much to pinch
And the skin on my back didn’t seem so much of a protectant more so needed to be protected

What no one tells you about growing up
Is that it happens at its own pace
Yet I still felt the need to paint my toenails the hottest pink
And switch my Bobby Jack covers for the blue one with the pink butterflies.
Colored lipgloss the scent of strawberries
Replaced the cinnamon Lip smackers
I forced myself to grow up

Counting on my fingers for math homework
Became counting calories on a tracker that made unhealthy eating habits seem appetizing
Growing up made my mouth water more than sweets
And being cool with an iPod made me think of myself as a twelve-year old-icon

Growing takes time but you’ll get there
No need for the rush to be someone bigger or stronger
And when stuck in traffic take the time to think and ponder the beauty in the world  
As expected I grew up without anticipating it to happen so quickly
Now the real question is would you willingly choose to waltz into growing up blind-sighted?
Or had you been waiting for so long that if you were to rub a magic lamp and get three wishes all three would be to grow up?

I remember the Bobby Jack monkey covers
If only I had created a cocoon with the soft polyester and waited until it was my turn to burst into a beautiful butterfly.

i bask in the heat of self-love
self ache
self soothe
self-touch
on curves where curves are feared
i feel the empty curves where curves are expected
words fumble as my ventriloquist stutters the strings
and i’m quenched and craving the universe i deserve
that i will build myself
dust by dust piecing together
this is the hardest puzzle i’ve ever built
but i’m capable and i do
because women are Gods indestructible creation and i am she
who stares at herself
endlessly
admiring the perfect beauty
that sits beautifully in a chair
or on a swing
as small legs oscillate
and glossy gleaming hair flails mercilessly
and i’m mesmerized
as she grabs my hand and delicately traces my index finger over the scars on my face and alchemized them into stars
her imperfections are perfect yet serendipitous constellations that deserve to be observed
but no scientist deserves nor can endure her powerful presence capable of shattering the earth with a wink
i gaze at her in awe
she’s the train wreck who makes it hard for my eyes to wander away
porque ella es la definición de belleza
and i’m thirsty for her self appreciation
my mouth waters for her self trust
as i watch her arms wrap herself in gratitude
and her fingers immerse themselves in her skin as they whisper unbroken promises of better days
a smile grows on her faultless asymmetrical face
as she tightens her grasp on the body that never fails to move,
or breathe,
or think,
or love,
or be
she is her
i am her
and i love her
interminably

I was sure.
That I knew who you were.

And then I took a cloth,
Cleaned my glasses and squinted,
I didn’t recognize you at all.

I know you

Here I have stood with you
And I will never leave your side
Valued is what you are, you're an inspiration
Even when you feel like you struggle

Little do you know that people still look up to you
Oh don't you know
Vows create a connection
Everyday's remembrance of dedication to something or someone
Don't you want to give vows too?

You must have at least an inch of temptation to love someone else
Otherwise loneliness will be a cold side on your bed
Understand the need for love?