west coast boy.

in your eyes is where all the light of this world gathers
just for me.


the finest man.

we lie in your bed
with nothing but linen
and the exposed embodiment
of beauty and pleasure.
i roll over on my side
and my breasts gently fall onto your body,
stroking your desire
and craving for devotion.
you don’t look at me and i don’t look at you.
we breathe.
and i collect all your breaths
in the depths of my existence.


fine wine.


as i get older, things change.

my stepdad was mentally and emotionally abusive growing up.
now, i see his desperate yearning to be a better person.
the sun hiding behind the clouds
wanting to break the horizon.
he is too proud to apologize for the damage he’s caused me,
but he no longer needs to.
he is a better father to my brother and sister
and i couldn’t ask for a better apology than that.

as i get older, feelings change.

my dads mom, i call her “gammy”.
i never had a true relationship with her when i was young.
my dad would force me to visit her sometimes
and i always dreaded it.
but i must say,
stopping by her house to have breakfast with her
on my way down to florida was one of the most valuable
mornings of my life.
i gained a new, unexplainable appreciation for her.
i was sad to leave her.
my moms biological mother,
she never really knew me growing up.
she would get all her grandkids ornaments every christmas.
when i was 18 she got me a ballerina ornament thinking that i danced.
i hadn’t danced in 11 years.
i went to go visit her one thanksgiving.
we spent thanksgiving just her and i.
it was the most enchanting thanksgiving.
we cooked all the foods,
and i love food, especially thanksgiving food.
we also made the most delicious hot chocolate
and talked about why she wasn’t there for
my mom and aunts and uncles when they were young.
she told me her own mother never told her
she loved her until she was 31 years old.
that’s when i realized life will throw some real fucked up curveballs
and you will have no clue how to hit them.
when you bring life into this world,
you have to do what’s best for that life,
even if it tears your heart and soul out.
so maybe she did the right thing.

as i get older, actions change.

my most prized possessions are no longer
a build-a-bear from the boyfriend of the season
or a necklace from tiffany’s,
rather they are the crocheted blankets that my grandmother
spent hours upon hours making for me for my graduation.
my pen pal is no longer a stranger from tinder
or my crush of a coworker,
but rather my great aunt,
who’s cursive always tilts to the west
and remembers my birthday without a facebook reminder.

as i get older,
i am starting to become a woman i never thought i’d be
in the best way possible.
i am wanting to rekindle old flames with friends who’ve lost matches
and send postcards to people i’ve only just met.

and i’m only 23.
i’ve got my whole life ahead of me.


about me: mercedes.

my favorite flower is the peony.
when i drive, i wish i had a hand to hold.
sometimes when i drink too much
i become semi-fluent in spanglish.
my cat likes to eat my plant and it irritates me sometimes, but i can never stay mad at her.
i am a feminist.
i am currently writing this with my robe on that i accidentally got peanut butter on just moments ago.
sometimes i wish i had someone to cook for, but also, it’s nice not worrying about someone else’s palate.
i’m growing my hair back out.
not too long though.
i love an all black outfit.
beyonce is a goddess
and zoe saldana is my woman crush everyday.
i have about 6 different mugs
but i drink coffee in the same one every morning.
i say “fuck” a lot and i don’t think my family knows/understands/cares to know how much i swear.
i won’t smile if my lips aren’t moisturized.
but my lips are always moisturized.
coconut oil>olive oil.
my coworkers bought me 2 packs of wintergreen altoids for my birthday and i couldn’t find words accurate enough to express my appreciation.
my favorite color is navy blue.
i suck at applying makeup.
when i sleep, i spread my body into an “x” and take up my whole bed.
it’s the best
and sometimes i feel bad for my future husband.
i think about religion a lot
and i’m pretty confident aliens exist.
a lot of times, i write about boys and love and other stupid things, but i figured i’d write about myself for once.



the rain reminds me of you,
and of us,
and how we didn’t mind.
and if we could wear our heart on our sleeves, you would need a really big sleeve.
the heart sets the beat for the mind and soul to dance.
i want you to talk for hours until i’m as silent as the stars
and in the twinkling of your eyes, i see a man i want to give my heart freely.
a voice so gentle, angels come to you for worship.
and your breath on my neck sent a spell throughout my body
as i composed myself like a wild symphony.
i believe in declarative passion roared in the rain
and i believe in mad desire under the brazen sunrise.
did you know that there is a line in your skin from smiling, which is an actual replica of heaven’s horizon?
in the middle of the night i hope you’re dreaming of something nice.
kiss me forever in all kinds of weather.
i hope to someday be the reason for you to fill a blank canvas with everything you’ve ever felt.
you said “i wonder how many times we’ve kissed by now”
and i remember thinking
“i want to kiss you until the waves stop kissing the shoreline”
forevermore, a sunset will remind me of your smile.
bliss is sitting under a maple tree and reading to you at leisure.
and you were just sitting there talking,
and it was the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.