Ride-or-die

Puerto Rico feels cursed to me now.Like the island swallowed the life I builtand spit me out empty.Jackie left me there —not just left me,abandoned me like trash on the…

el adios

They tell you grief comes in stageslike a hospital elevatorthat stops neatly on each floor. Bullshit. Grief is a code blue at 3:17 a.m.when the hallway smells like bleach and…