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It’s not too late

 

I saw her

at an open mic night in Harlem.

I could tell it was her first time performing spoken word.

Sweat trickled down her forehead as the words escaped her mouth.

 

I saw her

stumbling outside a bar in Brooklyn, kissing dragon’s breath.

She lit a joint like It was a cigarette and watched lovers quarrel, pretending

to be the source of their troubles. She was fascinated by people in love,

Choosing someone over solitude was a foreign concept.

 

I saw her

holding hands with a man at Echo Park and it caught me off guard.

The only thing she hated more than Los Angeles was men.

 

I put down my phone and remembered,

there’s always time to become the person you already are.

 

Evany Martinez