I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
Listening to my writing playlist while high
a lot of songs about men begging the women
to come back
Interesting
It is a hidden fetish, fantasy I had
a man continuously
suffering for me
regretting the day they fumbled me
escribí este poema en marzo del 2022.
Me convertí en la oscuridad para mi papá
la Luz que brillaba en sus ojos por mis apagón
y lloré Lloré lloré
sentí que había matado el amor
que sentía por mí
pero no era así
Si lo había Herido bastante
pero me perdonó cuándo
le de otra razón de amo
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
what if the colonizer in me took over
and I declared manifest destiny on every man
I fancied, even if he was taken
what if I didn’t care about the other woman
and was a completely selfish bitch
and become an expert homewrecker
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
Check your privilege at the door
every single white person who comes
asking for my opinion
I can’t be your agreeable POC anymore
Check your privilege at the door
I’m not the voice for my community
with you, certain topics I can’t explore
don’t use me as another learning opportunity
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
one day in bed and my son acts like its the end of the world
demands I get up and act like an adult
like the mother he’s used to seeing
but in defiance, I stay in bed
reading poetry and allow the muse to come and allow me
to pour out of me and land on paper
for once I won’t allow the patriarchy define how I should act,
who I should be
for once I allow the poet me to be my first priority
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
His love made her glow
she shone, shone, shone
it was her happy ending
after a lifetime of misunderstanding
it was the sunshine she needed
after so many sad ballads
it was beautiful,it was lovely
it was the ultimate love story
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
feet washed and kissed in front of others
everyone calls her blessed and lucky
no one knows about the scars she hides
beneath her lilac modest dress
no one believes her if she told them
what a monster he was behind closed doors
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
her warmth keeps me safe and loved
it protects me from the harshness of this world
I call her Mami
her strength inspires me to stand up for myself
it makes me want to become a better version of myself
I call her my sister
Her ability to be there for me keeps me from dying
It keeps from falling into a dark abyss
I call her my friend
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
we’re in our saorsa era, redemptive and honest
a complete 180 turn to who we were before
a story I like so much better than our last one
always said I was a much better friend
and girlfriend
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
I shouldn’t wish death upon anyone
but I wish death upon you
the minute your child posted about your open heart surgery
and immediately , it makes sense,
a man with a weak mind has an even weaker heart
I shouldn’t wish death upon anyone
but I wish death upon you
couldn’t you die on the operating table?
you never deserved your life with your beautiful children
you-who made me carry the burden of shame and guilt
for years and years
I shouldn’t wish death upon anyone but I wish death upon you
you-who desecrated my morality and ethics through
your domestic authority
I shouldn’t wish death upon anyone but I wish death upon you
because someone like doesn’t deserve to breathe
the same breath of real human beings
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
Cowboy with your boots and maga hat
Stay away from me
forget I ever existed
forget that once upon a time
I was your wendy to your peter
forget I always flew to you
when you texted me
I wrote to this poem in March of 2022.
I should go back to where I come from and where is that exactly
here -is the only real home I’ve ever known
here – is where all of my babies were born
here- is where I’ve loved and I’ve mourned
so where is my place
because anywhere else feels like a home unknown
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
hot summer nights on your porch
meant the world to me
and inspired an unusual amount of poems
I’m starting to think that writing poems
is how I hold onto the magic of our memories
escribí este poema en marzo del 2022.
Calladita calladita me quedo siempre
para no molestar a mami que viene cansada segundo trabajo
soy una chica que me trago mis palabras
acerca del chico que me pellizcó el trasero
aunque me siento sucia
no quiero que mami piense que
hice algo malo para que me falten el respeto
soy una señorita de una buena familia
calladita calladita escondo mis libras de más
bajo los Blue Jeans anchos de mi hermano
ni siquiera le mencionó a mi madre que hace meses
no me baja la regla
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
longing to escape responsibility of my suburban life
I became 21 again and did drugs and fucked stranger men
I never meant any harm, I just wanted to know
what it was like to not be looked
at as someone’s mother, someone’s wife
Life on the BPD 