I am from two different homes
Two completely different lives even.
I’m from disappointment and big dreams
The unrealistic
The one who was going to be just like the rest
As if I am not worth it.
I am from bullets and poverty
From the city that depends on the government’s money.
I’m from ice cream trucks and corner stores
From hurt and laughing
From fun and imagination
To confusion and communication.
I’m from the hydrangeas from nanas porch
The colors of emotion
Even when they express their patterns and differences
In a unique way.
From the stories my nana tells me
To those hydrangeas, the same ones her grandmother had
I am from book reports and quizzes on Fridays
From leftovers and the joy of old pictures
I’m from books and movies of romance
Because I fall easily.
I am from these memories
The ones that
Mean the most to me
