I had a crush on Maria
She was older by at least 3 years
I was just a boy
I would yell out at her and hide
She would never turn though
She would just walk faster
She seemed scared walking through the neighborhood
I went to public school
She went to St. Mary’s Catholic Church
She would pass by my house everyday.
-Pretty with full lips and a dimple when she smiled
Maria couldn’t hurt a fly
I think she was Honduran.
One day the other girls from the hood
Approached her and made fun of her
Knocking the books out of her hands
-Pulled her hair
-Called her names
She cried all the way home.
Years went by
She became friends with the same girls who bullied her.
She knocked books out of other hands
-Laughed all the way home
Maria was no longer
Even the prettiness diminished.
She was dark
Scared no more
She was part of the hood.
Mascara and eyeliner
Shielded her eyes
That once cried tears of fear
Blankets her once trembling thin lips
One over her left breast
The name of the vato
Who popped her cherry!
Crying brats tugging at her skirt
Baby daddy gone too.
25 to life
In her child’s bedroom
the razor blade cuts deep
a few inches from the heroin tracks
Just below her tattoo with her barrio’s hood in
Old English ink
Over in the prison
He swings from the ceiling at the news.
Her name was Maria
His name was Jose