Where the Bruja Provides an Open Invitation to the White Boy in Texas
Blame all the wrong books I read at thirteen.Blame my cold blooded birth in late December.Blame the truth for how dark it gets,blame the bite down, the pinned wrists— dearest, here it is: I wasn’t raised right.But I don’t need a daddy, don’t want somegoddamn gentleman. Romance is for show-offs.Roses, a waste of nature in…