I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in Lima, I never had to tone down my theatrics
everyone was just like me
not filtering what was on their mind
they left no thoughts behind
loud and emotional is seen as normal
passionate is the standard
i never had to reign myself in
I could just be without thinking
without doing any explaining
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
drove towards the moon, full of uncertainty and ambiguity
Wondering what’s next for me, tired of being the foundation
tired of acting like I don’t crash out
Drove towards the moon full of uncertainty and ambiguity
trying to manifest something softer and calmer for myself
where I’m not fighting for survival
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I don’t want to work that extra shift but my discover statement
tells me otherwise-
it tells me that once again I’m falling into a world of debt-
for daring to live a life above my means, above my class
and if I’m not careful I can slip back into poverty status
so I’ll work that extra shift and stop trying to live
a higher class life that’s not meant for me yet-
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
I sigh at the horizon in front of me as L.A is under siege again
and this time they’ve declared a state of emergency
I want to avoid the news, turn off my phone for a few days,
lock myself away in a cabin with my boyfriend
somewhere in the appalachian mountains
where I can forget the rest of the world
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
I wasn’t raised to look away in the face of injustice
or when the safety of my loved ones are compromised
instead I remain hypervigilant
Always on alert of this administration’s next dickhead move
hoping it’s enough to keep my loved ones protected
from chaos and destruction
hoping one day this madness will end
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in Lima, people sing out loud at the table, in the car
they don’t carry the shame and embarrassment of Americans
they show their happiness, sadness, anger and all of their emotions out loud
unafraid to be cast as emotional and dramatic
they wear badges of passion, grief, anger and love on a prominent place
without caring about what the judgment of others and it’s fucking beautiful
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
it’s almost halloween and almost a year since I lost contact with you
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
Laufey’s too little, too late plays on repeat
A sense of guilt hits me wondering what we could have been
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
my boyfriend told me I’m wife material
I’ve resigned myself to the fact there never will be an us
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
Time and luck never was on our side
No matter how hard both of us tried
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
you left your lighter at the bar along with your story of grief and trauma
it’s the last time your body had life-
it’s the last time you told bad jokes and laughed
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
let’s take a midnight flight to Tokyo and get lost in Japan
like that Shawn Mendes song
let’s eat great sushi if there is such a thing
and pretend we’re 15 again
and so free spirited and carefree
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in 1821, my homeland gained independence from the Spanish crown
who subjugated my people to their whims of supremacy and colonizing ways
200 years later,they celebrated their independence
while, I, their daughter gained my independence from society’s chains
wrapped up in patriarchal and sexist good intentions
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
as the leaves turn crisp, I find myself reminiscent of the many women I’ve been
excited for the version of me that’s to come
understanding I was always right
to continue on and trust the process
understanding this heroine’s journey of mine
was indeed worth it
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
sepia memories of my great grandmother captured her mysterious smile
months before she met her untimely demise in a fire
was she smiling about her newborn child
or because that was coquettish nature
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
I dig and dig from the skeletal remains of my family’s lore to make art out of it
to pay tribute to my ancestors and my family hates me for it
because no one is sanctified or worshipped in my stories
everyone is shown as who they’ve been
flawed individuals with mistakes made
with self induced tragedies, with victims
and generational curses left and passed down to us
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
pumpkin patches, fairy costumes, scary movies-
leaves falling, trees dying-
october is here
another damn season of my life is here
another transformation I’m not ready for
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
when it’s good, I float on clouds
but lately, I feel trapped
like a bird in a cage
doing everything I can to survive
enslaved in some script I follow
in order to not be alone
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
the sunflower longs for the warmth of summer
where it feels loved and comfort-
but summer has to end every year and fall comes in to kill her
and she dies every autumn waiting for almost a year to be reborn
