The walls in my room don’t smell like home:
I couldn’t get rid of the smell.
It lingered within my sheets.
Painted pictures on my walls.
Sat on my empty chest and read me stories.
It used to keep me up at night.
Accompanied me when loneliness consumed me.
I sit and wait every night hoping the stench returns.
How did it feel to see my empty room?
I left the smell of incense, to remind the walls of my presence.
Do you keep them company now that I’m gone?
These walls have done nothing for me to hate them.
Have you wiped them clean of me?
Did you fully get rid of the smell?
How did it feel to taste shame on your tongue?
Did your teeth rot to the taste?
The night I left my teeth fell off in my dreams.
I remember mami saying dreams about teeth symbolize death.
The last time I dreamt of teeth was the first time someone in the neighborhood died.
I like to think that who I was died when I left.
I confess that I mourn myself at night.
Am I worthy of repentance?
I assure you there is no prayer to forgive myself
This body has been the rosary for my prayers.
-divine perez
