I wrote this poem in September of 2025.

Iβm an expert at navigating the gray and vague trying to romanticize
and make fires out of the smallest of sparks
deluding myself into thinking if I stick around long enough
Heβll realize Iβm the one
I wrote this poem in September of 2021.

I long to run free in a world free from prejudice and pride
I long to run free in a world free from judgment and ignorance
I long to run free in a world that accepts people like me
I long to run free in a world where Iβm not hypervigilant
about toning myself down
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.

me and my cousins followed in our abuelas footsteps
having kids out of wedlock with men
who abandoned us and becoming the other woman
and God bless our parents for trying to break
this unhealthy cycles
but Gabrielaβs blood is too strong for any of us
to fight off properly
so at some point as we come into adulthood
we search for love in the wrong places like her,
become pick mes and suffer the consequences
of our actions
I wrote this poem in September of 2019 in response to El Paso Walmart Shooting on August 3rd of 2019. Here is a link to it : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2019_El_Paso_Walmart_shooting

he came for my people
followed the rhetoric of our hate fueled president
men, women, children killed in cold blood
because they were the wrong race, the wrong color
spoke the wrong language
he came for βUSβ
the so-called invaders
him at just 21 years old filled with hatred from head to toe
brainwashed by white supremacy
twenty two lives taken as a consequence of a monstrous ideology
twenty two families who will forever grieve and mourn
the neverending sorrow loss of their loved ones taken too soon
twenty two families with an infinity of questions and no real answers
and as usual the useless thoughts and prayers come,
and the law makers are the worst,
making empty promises to fight this American epidemic
but after a few days, they will forget like everyone else
itβs no longer a question of why this happened
ttβs become a question of when will be the next time
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

My jealousy is green and monstrous-
Its big and dramatic
Itβs almost epic and iβm like dammit
I wish I wasnβt like this
but maybe itβs time to accept it
itβs not that Iβm toxic
Or that something is wrong with me
I just need a lover who only has eyes for me,
who doesnβt think about other options
when heβs with me
whoβs so obsessed with me,
Iβm like the air he needs to breathe
in order to live
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

I made promises to myself after your departure-
I promise to be completely myself for next love candidate-
No matter how crazy that may look like-
I promise to show him my prose and poetry-
even if it opens a door to hurtful truths
he deserves to know my past if he wants to be part of my present
and form a part of my future-
I promise to not place him on a pedestal
Iβll look for his humanity, truth, and accept him for who he is
and no matter how much I love him-
I wonβt accommodate to him or compromise my integrity
Heβll have to learn to live with and love the strong woman I am today
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

the shelf of my bookcase breaks, and my poetry notebooks fall
every single one of my love stories scattered on the floor
Failure after failure
Were any of them worth the effort?
Was the experience worth the suffering?
Maybe it was for the inspiration behind my prose and poetry
and the growth Iβve had
Still, that doesnβt seem like an adequate answer