Love Potion

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 29, 2018

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Submitted: September 29, 2018

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A A A


Maybe tomorrow I’ll shave my head clean and sew a wig to my scalp made out of straight hair and good hair days

I’ll remind myself that beauty is pain and every ache will be worth it if I never again look “so wild and unruly”

I’ll stop eating mama’s cooking and soaking up the leftovers with countless tortillas

I’ll drink my coffee decaffeinated and whiten out my Spanish

Stretching out my sentences and annunciating every letter so that my words won’t sound like they’re running off my tongue and crashing into each other as I speak

I’ll sound like the white girls in my 8th grade Spanish class with their “man-san-uhs” and “co-mo say llam-uhs”

Forever questioning why I hug so tight and give so many kisses on the cheek

I’ll grow so unfamiliar with cariño men will be falling all over me

Because every beautiful girl is not tender but as cold as an icy Jarrito

Wait! No Spanish please!

I’ll be as cold as a Mtn. Dew fresh from the cooler

Or a menthol cigarette between your teeth

Maybe tomorrow I’ll be less “picante” as an old Cuban man who once said he’ll pray for mi futuro novio called me

Then if I can take the mazapan out of my first and middle name

The seasonings out of my last ones

Kissing me won’t be an act you need to follow with a glass of milk so that you can cool down the flames I leave on your tongue

And then if I only have two names that are nice and easy to swallow

It’ll be easier to call me by my full name without getting my existence stuck in your teeth

Maybe tomorrow I’ll talk less and sound like a whisper when I speak

I’ll suck the size from my thighs

Shrink down my belly

Then I’ll actually be able to fit my ass into a pair of real jeans

And actually be skinny in skinny jeans

I’ll be less of a frijolita and more of a fun sized candy bar you can easily fit in your basket

I’ll dye my hair to look like the sun instead of a handful of beans

I’ll keep gold around my wrists and only see Mexico as a vacation destination

Leaving unwanted scraps of myself everywhere like the floor of a children’s arts and crafts class

Maybe tomorrow I’ll find a way for there to be less of me

And more of someone I’ll never be

Then maybe it’ll be easier to love me


© Copyright 2020 madelyne rose sosa-jaramillo. All rights reserved.

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