Two poems by Laura Andrea
Maybe we were just enough
We were a stutter,
a scratched CD,
false start after false start
screaming to become.
We were young intentions,
curiosity drenched in hesitation.
We were also beautiful moments.
Chance encounters turned into soft afternoons
under canopied trees
on old wooden benches,
through plucked guitar strings.
Your head resting on my lap
my heart staining your fingers.
I dived into light eyes once. They were the only ones that hurt me actively, vocally, definitively.
Since then I've only swum in brown, a kindred sea, whose waves echoed mine.
There's an understanding in the darkness. There is no end, no future, no guarantees of clear skies and open fields. Only the unsustainable energy of coffee, the uncertainty of sand, and the lack of promises that were somehow kind to me.
Laura Andrea (she/her) is a cuir, boricua fiction writer and poet from Carolina, Puerto Rico. Her work can be found in Rose Quartz Magazine, Pussy Magic, Meow Meow Pow Pow, and Rio Grande Review. She's currently pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing at The University of Texas at El Paso. She enjoys reading comic books on her phone and making reggaeton/latin trap playlists to deal with her feelings.