that sunday night.

we smoked on a sunday night.
and that is when i felt
with all of my heart
some of the most precious emotions i’ve ever experienced.
you were in my arms as we laid on the couch.
netflix was on in the background
and your kitchen light and a solo lamp in the corner set the mood for all.
our foreheads and noses were touching
as you were falling into my soul,
the way that waves fall back into the ocean after gently grazing the untouched sands and imperfect castles of strangers nearby.
i could tell that you were smiling by the dimple below your left eye.
whole conversations were whispered
like two middle schoolers who were on the phone past curfew.
your eyes never broke away from me but for a blink,
and even so,
you rushed back from your flutter to put your gaze right back on me.
“what is this that we are feeling?” you whispered as our faces still touching, never rupturing our union.
my lips stayed silent in fear of saying a four letter word only meant for lovers.
now as i think back and try to figure out that feeling of intimacy that we felt on that sunday night,
i’m realizing that there isn’t a single word to describe that feeling, darling.
but i can tell you that it was a mixture of love and sadness and passion.

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the kindest one.

an unopened bottle of champagne sits on the floor near my bedroom door.
we lie in bed weak from martinis and whiskey
and he reaches over and says “good morning sweetheart”.
my succulent plants can no longer face the cold temps of my winter new york bedroom
and my once white rug is now a grey blur.
his beard tickles my neck as i listen to my neighbor’s heels clap on the floor above.
for a split second i can see clouds surround our bodies.
gravity is a lost concept and i’ve never felt so high and so sober in one moment.
i am being held by the kindest man known to mankind,
and in this hour i’m not fretting about when i will see him next
or if he likes me back.
rather, my mind is serene and my body is still
and all of me feels pleasant.

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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.

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