There are so many portals in this city.
I raised her and loved her and lost her.
I visited her friday night and the lights in this city couldn't have drowned me back to life after.
But when she spoke she shattered everything that could have been.
She had deep violet bruises under her eyes, working the night shift at the massage parlour,
black eyed from having her dreams crippled and sold back to her.
I brushed her hair and sang her love songs and brought her love back to life.
I would have killed everything that hurt her just to get back to a brighter moment with her

To the double heartbeat,
I wrote my stories down, all of them and watched the words reel and splat and convulse. The things we loved always seemed to fuck us up but a laugh meant more than anything for motherless children. For you I want to be everything she was not, visions of my mother with her bandaged wrists, a story that threatens to recreate herself, but no, I have to be strong like his fist, with your half Cuban ancestry and your mothers fearless love, I hope you will be whole.

xo, Lily