I love:
the city. my guitars. my room. poetry. the church bells at Concord Baptist Church of Christ on Marcy Ave. street art, movement art, lo-budget indie films, dogs and cats, hoops, my friends, the sky, the ocean, my bike, skateboarding, a blossoming almond tree, almendrados (Spanish almond cookies), soccer, adidas, music, healers and dealers in fragile things, oh, and my mom, who loves me the way a plant in a clay pot is loved by water.
they broke my heart:
a few too many to list. from middle-school dances to loud West Village bars, I’ve been Swiped Left on more than my fair share. the last person who rejected me IRL said having me around was lowering their coolness.
how do I not have my heart broken?
love nothing in the world and no one in it. stop doing nice things for other people because that could lower my defenses to love.
but if I did that:
my world, and everything in it that I love and all the people who I love and love me, would not be the same. and if everyone in the world did that, the world wouldn’t make it. yes, I could get Swiped Left and have my heart broken over and over, but a broken heart can love again and again.
what is love? it’s not never having to say things.
what will love do if I am gone? I hope it will say things.
cookie nieves 
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