Monday, October 13, 2014

"Your naked body
should only belong to
those who fall in love
with your naked soul."
- Charlie Chaplin

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Because, why not?

Let's go. We'd sneak in at 1am and have the park all to ourselves.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Year #2

His early mornin' loving
You have to leap out of bed with him

His curly hair and knobby knees
The way the sun gleams his smile

He looks at me with those big eyes
He got me in the palm of his hands
He smiles with that full of joy smile

There's no denying he's my child
Without him I don't know what I'd do

He melts my heart,
That tiny discoverer of everything

He is in awe of all that he sees,
And he taught me more that he could ever know. 

Makes me laugh at the perfect time
That boy is everything to me

Happy 2nd birthday! I love you, kid. 


Friday, January 10, 2014

There is a Girl in Every Woman

I came across this piece I wrote for KissFist Magazine a good number of years ago. Made me smile, reminding me of who I truly am. Who I always will be.

"I remember Monica. After reading Icy Sparks, I am brought to fond memories of this small and skinny girl whom I loved when I was a child. Monica wasn't normal but she was my friend. Even though I was much stronger and bigger than she was, I loved hugging her and playing with her. Teachers oftentimes would have to make sure I didn't get too rough on Monica. She was that fragile and me, that playful. What was it about Monica that I loved? Why did I play with her while nobody else would? I was aware of how different we were. Yet, it didn't matter to me. Every morning during my kindergarten year, I would scurry to a small Monica and give her the biggest hug I could ever give anyone.

Those were the days when I was a child and everybody called me Jessie. I had a furious passion for everything. I loved being naked, getting dirty, and threw frequent giggling fits. I remember how I would climb on people and snuggle in their arms, even onto people I barely knew. I also begged for stories. I would flop on the floor and crave a story. I demanded them, and wouldn't take a no for an answer. I knew, back then, that every single human being had something waiting to be told, something to reveal, and something for me to learn. I wanted to know what was occurring in their minds, what kind of imagination they had, or if they had any at all. My most favorite storyteller of all was Daddy. He still is nowadays. I remember I had a handful of questions solicited with a constant curiosity. I wrote about sex at five years old without shame, and asked my mother questions like "Why are the trees here? Why are we here?" I wasn't afraid of the truth. In fact, I wanted to challenge it. I told what was exactly in my mind or how I was feeling at the moment. I wandered alone a lot, too. I loved having attention. When I had eyes on me, my shyness would creep on the bottom of my spine but I knew I was captivating enough to give a great show. I secretly had confidence. I would constantly give my family shows. I was innocent and pure, always wearing that torn but willowy aqua dress, and went outside barefoot catching fireflies. In the middle of the living room I would spin, spin, and spin until I got so dizzy seeing the room spinning around me as I stopped, but then I would do it again. I spent hours and hours in the bathroom being my imaginative self, painting my face and singing to myself. I sang out loud. I was too much even for a little girl. I knew I had the whole world to live my life in, and I wanted to cave it all in.

Not too long ago, and when thinking nobody was looking, a thought came slowly into my mind and, without realizing, I broke into a giggle fit. When I turned, there was Mom smiling and inquiring as to why was I laughing. Embarrassed, I refused to tell. All of sudden, she said, "You looked like a little girl when you did that. Except for the fact that when you were little, you would proudly tell why. What's there to be afraid of?" I am not a child anymore, I wanted to protest. I wanted to say I do not know her - I only recollect the mishaps of her memories, her shadows, but she is not me anymore. I have run away from the picture, which has been stilled only in the meshes of my whole yesterdays. But the giggling fit gave me away and I was still Jessie, that little girl who wasn't afraid of the world."

And, that little girl who isn't afraid of the world is here to stay. :)