A seeker. A mover. A malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser.
Sometimes my english and spanish do not meet each other halfway. On their worst days they are exes still cohabitating because rent is cheaper divided by 2.
By Leslie Hernandez4 years ago in Poets
Dear self, I’m sorry I allowed the insecurities of others to occupy our space. For allowing them to seep into our mind,
I’m a foolish woman, who likes her tomorrows promised. Naturally I fell for you and the promises of what could have been. I crave you on more nights than not,
I write poems you’ll never read because I’ve always felt more worthy of being heard In black and white, I can be poetic and digestible.
You are trying to figure out if you still have what it takes, to leave your soul in every word. To paint the perfect picture with a shortage of supplies
