My Poetry

Do Not Touch.

She can wear what she wants. She can walk down the street naked, and you still would not have the right to violate her. If someone leaves the door to their house open, does that give you the right to walk in? To caress their couches, examine their personal pictures on the wall, sleep in… Continue reading Do Not Touch.

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Short Stories

Last Words.

I hope you die. That was the last thing you said to me. And then I did. My heart just shriveled up and crumbled like ashes. But unlike the Phoenix or Jesus, it didn’t rise again. Instead, I was pronounced dead and buried a week later. I was buried in the beautiful blue prom dress… Continue reading Last Words.

Short Stories

Black-handed

He stared at me, hidden and protected by all the dropped heads looking at their phones in the crowd. He looked like an officer, but most white men do to me. He had a gun snuggling against his hip though. But he didn’t have a uniform on, just a faded shirt that said FBI: Female… Continue reading Black-handed

A Day In My Life

Me vs Me.

I check the posts in the memories section on Facebook every single day, usually right around midnight when they change, just to see how I used to talk, what I used to talk about, and how I have grown over the years. I often find myself annoyed with my old posts from like 2011 and… Continue reading Me vs Me.

Short Stories

In a Storage Closet in Paris.

He couldn’t see her in the tiny storage closet, but he could smell her. She smelled like home. Not his home, which reeked of greasy pizza boxes and inside-out underwear, but home. She smelled of sweet pea body wash and the mint chocolate-chip gum she always kept a pack of in her purse. That was… Continue reading In a Storage Closet in Paris.

Short Stories

Undercover and Armed.

I’m not racist but, who was that lunatic? I should have thrown his hands behind his back and frisked him. But then people would accuse me of racial profiling. There’s been enough war between white cops and the black community. I didn’t want to deal with the heat I would receive for questioning this dangerous… Continue reading Undercover and Armed.

Short Stories

Black and White.

Black. Black. Black. Black. Black. Six bodies of black hanging against the wall. Dirty eye sores in a world of clean skin. Blackness–creeping up on me like a robber under the night sky. I can’t see myself in the whiteboards, because I see all of the black smudges that people have tried to erase. That… Continue reading Black and White.

A Day In My Life, Adventures of a Bookworm

Adventures of a Bookworm: Humpday Happiness

I just found out that the Friends of the San Francisco Public Library hold a WEEKLY, yes weekly, dollar book sale on the steps at the main public library on Wednesdays. I go to their book sale every second Saturday, but they have one every single week! Oh my, my, my, my my. But, it's… Continue reading Adventures of a Bookworm: Humpday Happiness

My Opinions, Short Stories

Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift

  Frog crouched down behind the couch in the dark apartment, the sunlight that shimmied into the apartment through the small cracks in the blinds illuminated the round, chocolate cake in his hands that’s finished off with cricket and mealworm confetti. His cool, green toes anxiously dug into the cherry-wood floor and fat beads of… Continue reading Frog and Toad Are Friends: The Gift