I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

I exist between stocking and typing
I exist between boxes and documents
I exist between hip pain and carpal tunnel
I exist between grocery clerk and receptionist
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

horace and betty flaunt 77 years of matrimony on the front page of the local newspaper
and Iβm both awestruck and jealous at their achievement
because I couldnβt even get past year 11 of my marriage
because now I canβt even get past a talking stage on any of the dating apps
because I canβt imagine the kind of saintly patience, understanding and loyalty
required for that kind of commitment
horace and betty flaunt 77 years of matrimony on the front page of the local newspaper
and I wonder the fuck they did it
what was the magic key to unlock both their doors to a lifetime of shared love,respect
and vulnerability
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

Downloaded hinge to become unhinged
the fountain of inspiration was waning
and I needed a dose of new character energy
even if some of those characters are icky and shady
even if some of those characters annoy me
I canβt keep writing about the same old repetitive stories
reheating old trauma for the purpose of making art
after a while, it gets exhausting
after a while, it makes no sense since Iβve forgiven them all
and honestly, I canβt do another 4 years of Trump
Celibate and devoid of any romantic energy
I wrote this poem in April of 2022:

I saw a cross written in the sky
and I wondered,
βIs that you God?
Is that your sign that I shouldnβt lose
faith or hope
and I need to keep going,to keep living?
Is that you God ?
Telling me everything will be fine
and one day peace will be mine
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

my teenager gives my dating advice,
at 13, he thinks he knows everything
after watching an unhealthy amount of romantic animes
and getting his first girlfriend
says romance should be a slow burn
donβt hold hands until the twentieth date
and donβt think about the benefits of the men Iβm dating
Concentrate on what my heart is feeling
and I donβt know if I should be offended or impressed
but then again at 44, I am the one divorced
with a trail of several trainwrecks relationships left behind
maybe I should take his words of wisdom seriously
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

mami didnβt know the door she opened when she gave me Becquer”s Rhyme XXX
thought I would just take solace in the spanish poets words about heartbreak and move on
mami had no idea how that poem was a gateway to inspiration for me to write my first poem at 15
and keep writing them 30 years later
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

Faith found me one day
and told me to keep going when I didnβt want to
Faith made me believe in GOD when I wanted to fall
into the abyss of depression
Faith held me as I cried endless tears of my about
my latest life’s catastrophe
Faith loved me when I couldnβt love myself
Faith brought me people who believed in me
When I couldnβt believe in myself
Faith decided to one day bring itβs accomplice
HOPE
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

I blame my ADD, Mami and hypersensitivity for my poetic tendencies
I never had the attention span or time to learn to play an instrument or paint
instead at 15, I learned to write poems out of the shards in my heart left
from a breakup after reading Becquer, and ever since then
Itβs been an ongoing love affair with poetry
one that is a refuge from the outside world, one that has been therapeutic
when I felt the sky fall on me many times
and while on most days I still suffer from imposter syndrome
and donβt consider myself a real poet
I donβt and wonβt ever let that deter me from processing
the wonderful, terrible, and crazy things in my life through poetry
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.

the nuns and mami started into obedience and I reverted into a world of silence
And everyone praised mami about what a good little girl I was
and no one thought much about this
until my parents demanded answers for the rebellious streak in my teens
couldnβt understand the numerous absences, the subpar performance in school,
why I sulked in my bedroom for hours on ended, the disrespect from my mouth
as I stood up for myself, they wondered where their sweet and quiet princess went
all the while they should have looked back 6 or 7 years ago
when they indoctrinated me to hold it all in or else they wouldnβt love me
should have known one day Iβd rebel and explode as I was finding my spirit,
my voice once again after it had been buried under layers of good behavior
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

I am a witch and sometimes a bitch
if youβre lucky
Youβll see the sweet side of me where I’m your real life magical wet dream come true
If youβre unlucky, youβll meet the BPD me
the worst bitch youβll regret meeting in your entire life
because if you treat me badly, Iβll make sure
youβre laugh at when I read a poem about you
at open mic