Mom
yesterday, i was a reflection of you,
lacing our fingers (as if to prove my origin)
today, i untangled myself
pulled and stretched as told,
in order to be my own shape.
and tomorrow, I’ll be falling,
falling, falling, falling..
please catch me
I miss the bends of your arms,
and the way you spoke my name.
6/13/22
i wonder in which glances
she is seeing my father
instead of me.
the parts of her past that will
inevitability make my skin,
is she there too, in my skin?
5/23/22
our hearts move on a harmonized beat
their soft hum becomes the breath to our entangled livesand i’ve become incapable of humming,if not with you
About the Artist: Celeste Irene Sandoval (she/her/hers) is a 19-year-old poet from Northern California, currently majoring in English at a community college. A great ton of her work tends to be about her family, stages of love, and the experiences that have made up her life. She has considered many career paths but knows that she'll be satisfied if she can continue writing. Other than poetry, Celeste dabbles in photography and constant music listening as hobbies. She is inspired daily by a plethora of lyricists, but Frank Ocean is one of the main contributors to her thoughts.
