escribí poema en enero del 2025.
nunca será la mujer de tu vida y me toca aceptar esta realidad
que alguien como tu siempre me mirara como alguien común
y nunca pensarás que quizás soy algo más que una mujer bella
nunca notaras que soy el fuego de inspiración que puede ser tu musa
I wrote this poem in January of 2022.
I fall in love easily
Reckless without abandon
Wanting to give him
My everything
This is my fairytale
I am sixteen
I fall in love with caution,
with time, with patience
with acceptance
Wanting to give him
My forever
This is my fairytale
I am 23
I fall in love immediately
Impulsively, sexually
Wanting to give him a love
he’s never known before
This is my fairy tale
I am 37
I fall in love with laughter,
With dancing, with practicality
I want to give him my life
This is my fairytale
I am 39
I fall in love with my body
With my creativity, with my resilience
I want to pour all the love I have
Into myself
I am 40
This is my reality
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
once upon a time I wrote a lovely poem about us
and called it by starlight
it told the story of our first night
but now you’re gone and all I’m left with
are memories of who we once were
and while I miss you
I know it’s better this way
we both needed a clean slate from our baggage
to start anew with someone else
we both needed to have a brand new start
with someone who fits into the new versions
of who we are now
I wrote this poem in January of 2022.
My former lover prays for me because I won’t fuck him
Is this how it feels like to change my story from on call whore
to an I’m healing and deserve better “Woman
Is this how it feels like to to go from fun girl to healthy woman
I use to measure my worth by who loved me or who wanted to fuck me
but those days of impulsivity and “hey, this will be fun”
are long gone
Now are the days of painful transformations,therapy worksheets, self reflection
and most importantly self love
So I put away my sexy vixen persona
And I put on my ” “I’m authentic without apologies persona”
I’ve stopped living to please others
and now live to please myself
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
My past called to me and I made the mistake of answering it
and looked for the former main characters in my life
Stalked them on google and social media
and most of them didn’t want to be found
perhaps they did the right thing in wanting to live their lives
in peace without their ghosts haunting them
but two of the ones who had the great impact on me
both of them are happily married
one of them has a son my youngest son’s age
I’m glad he grew out of his peter pan syndrome
and the other is about to finally become a dad at 43
his lifelong dream come true after waiting for so long
I’m trying to be happy for him
and with all that I’m ready to really close that chapter
On my past because while I was distracted from my grief
And highly entertained by my theatrics and my shitty choices in men
when I was in my twenties
Its time to stop this business of reminiscing of what was
and what could have been
Its time to accept what is and what could be
and focus on making my own lifelong dreams come true
And be open to my invisible string out there somewhere
waiting for me
I wrote this in January of 2022 when I was depressed.
I welcome death to take me away tonight-
death must be better than the anger
that has made an eternal home in me
death must feel better than this emptiness
that lies in my heart
death has to be better than this sorrow
that floods my pillow with tears continuously
death would be better than my emotions
that threaten to consume me
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
grief found me on a sunday night in the shower
and cried all of the tears I had been bottling up
since my uncle’s passing
lately it feels like life is running through my hands
and there’s not enough time to do everything I want
there’s not enough time to make an impact, an imprint
on this earth
lately I feel like a footnote
just existing on the edge of life, of love
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
el tio Julio always spoke English to us, the kids
didn’t matter who we were with or where we were
I think he was an advocate of assimilation at an early age
I think he wanted all of us to have a fighting chance
in our adopted homeland
perhaps this was an act of kindness on his part
he knew that in order to survive in the USA
we had to leave behind the part that made us seen as a foreigner
and become as American as possible
I wrote this poem in 2021.
Even after she’s destroyed
she goes to work the next day
plasters a fake smile on her face
Even after she’s devastated
she gathers the pieces of her heart
and reluctantly shows up
where she’s needed
Even after she’s knocked down
she gets up cloaked in strength
and continues to move forward
with a brand new determination
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
my uncle’s death has awakened something in me
and while I think he was mostly good and don’t judge him
I’m sad he didn’t live his life authentically
I’m sad he couldn’t bring himself to leave his loveless marriage
I’m sad he hurt his second wife by cheating on her with the first
I’m sad that for more than half a century he was deeply in love
with a woman he could never have
I wonder what would have happened if my uncle made it to therapy
and tamed his demons
I wonder if eventually he could’ve found some happiness and love
in his life or perhaps I’m wrong
and he was content with the mess he was inside
I wrote this poem in January of 2021.
I live in a constant world of confusion
Confused about who I am-
Confused about who I should be-
I live in a strange world of confusion
Confused about how I feel
Confused about how I should feel
I live in a crazy world of confusion
Confused about who I love
Confused about who I should love
I live in a chaotic world of confusion
Constantly and pathetically confused about who is the real me
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
under a tequila sunrise in L.A,he breaks apart once again
she committed the ultimate act of treason against him
and he couldn’t forgive her again
this time he couldn’t put a bandaid of his love
to make it all better
this time he had a son to think about
this time his family would disown him if he stayed with her
so he packed up her stuff, put the boxes and suitcases
of her belongings outside
changed the locks and filed for divorce
even as he broke inside, he held all of his emotions in
and even though he considered her the grand love of his life
he had to cut all ties with her
this time she hadn’t just broken law of not just decency
and morality with her actions
this time her horrid actions made her beyond redemption
this time she had gone too far
I wrote this poem in January of 2020.
winter comes with the iciest winds
and everything inside me freezes and I fawn
is this what they call seasonal depression
yet it’s much more than that
it’s a “what’s the point” status
it’s a “I’m looking forward for this day
to be over as soon as I wake up”-
my bed becomes my church, my family, my community
where I find comfort in not thinking,
in ignoring the noise of the world
winter comes with the iciest winds
and it’s hard to function but yet I do
and I feel like a fictional character playing my part
in a society fueled by greed and capitalism
escribí este poema en enero del 2025.
tomó su último suspiro y nos sorprendió
todo fue tan repentino
pensabamos que teniamos mas tiempo
pero su luz se disminuyó en un santo amén
y ahora llevamos un duelo inesperado
que va llevar tiempo superar
I wrote this poem in January of 2022.
They’re typically blond and white
and think they’re entitled to every fucking thing
they always want to speak to the manager
their names sound like Karen and Susan
they’ll pretend to have loads of empathy
when what they really have is tons of judgment
they’ll hide behind a pseudo wokeness
when underneath they’re racist as fuck
they complain about the unfairness of their lives
when their lives are the definition of privilege and luxury
they’ll shove their higher education in your face
when their ignorance shows in their actions
they supposedly live, laugh, and love
when they really hate, judge, and shame
their names sound like karen and Susan
Life on the BPD 