I wrote this poem in the fall of 2007 when I was depressed.

Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I hate it when I catch myself being unintentionally sweet
It makes me feel vulnerable and weak
Itβs almost as if my armor of empowered Queen
is breaking and I canβt allow that to happen
Iβve come too far in my heroineβs journey
to allow romantic daydreams
to disrupt it
And Iβm tempted to erase his messages
And block him
Itβs not his fault or mine
Itβs the faulty wiring in my brain
it causes the logic in me to short circuit
every time I talk to him
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

you were a dead end street
that I didnβt see until
it unraveled me
Until it was too late
and I didnβt want to turn around
and kept going
and eventually I crashed
in the most magnificent
and catastrophic of ways
and I burned and burned
until I was ashes
and rose up in the most
spectacular rebirth
anyone had witnessed
since Jesus
escribΓ este poema en marzo de 2024.

era tiempo de convertimos en extraΓ±os y esta vez para siempre
No habΓa mΓ‘s vueltas que dar o mas capΓtulos de nuestra historia
que escribir
Aceptar que ya nunca mΓ‘s seremos fue el favor mΓ‘s grande que nos hicimos
Ojala que esta vez seamos extraΓ±os para siempre
porque siendo algo mΓ‘s siempre nos causa un daΓ±o y conflicto
interno
Ojala que esta vez seamos como el fin del cuento que mi papΓ‘ me contaba
cuando era niΓ±a,
βColorin colorado nuestro cuento se ha acabadoβ
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

being with you was a form of self harm
it was another symptom of my mental illness
It was me living with my unhealed alcoholic daddy issues
it was the worst version of me
trying to find some kind of semblance of love
to fill the void with whatever, even if that love
looked toxic, brought out the worst in me,
berated and assaulted me
still stupidly I went back to you and accepted you
in my life over and over again
even with delusional daydreams in the back of my mind
that if I kept you in my life long enough
eventually youβd change and one day weβd get it right
but all you ever did was disappoint me over and over again
but this last undoing of us is the one
and good riddance for that
because at 43, iβm too fucking old to waste my time
on fuck bois who canβt show an ounce of respect
and dignity
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

at 17, the pregnant bride to be got a telegram from her groom
sorry, but Iβm betrothed to another and am getting married
at gun point
maybe it was the heavy feeling of rage or her aries nature
and hormones
the jilted bride with a silent fury went to her closet
and took out her ostentatiously beaded wedding dress
and with matches in her hand
she went outside and set fire to it in front of the family home
one of the younger siblings saw the insanity as the bride
stared at it mesmerized by fire that grew and grew
she walked towards it
all sense of reality gone from her
not hearing the screams from her abuela who ran towards her
and just before the bride step foot in the fire
la abuela shook her and slapped her across the face
until the bride reacted, let out a loud wail heard
across the farmland and fainted
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

lately I take the biggest bites out of life and flaunt it
in front of everyone
for too long I suppressed my hunger for experience,
for adventure
thought I was crazy for trying to explore my curious nature
So instead I took small bites here and there
thinking it be enough
but it wasnβt who I was
a little bird taking nips
naw Iβm a condor reading to pounce and satiate my hunger
my big ass appetite
ready to be satisfied
with the unpleasant and pleasurable things in life
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport
fast castellano coming from everyone
with cumbia in the background
machu picchu advertisements everywhere
my mind is trying to process everything in real time
Iβm here, Iβm here, Iβm here
the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors
land that I havenβt seen since the age of 9
and didnβt fully appreciate it
happy and completely elated
euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones
to my skin
I never thought Iβd see it again
poverty kept me away but Iβm here, Iβm here, Iβm here
my beloved PerΓΊ
the land I left without consent
the land I was taught to menospreciar
Iβm here, Iβm here, Iβm here
and I canβt wait to get reacquainted with you
mi tierra-once again
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

I still watch our video, we were so cute together
(sends pic of us naked in bed)
your pussy is fire
Iβll wait for you until you change your mind
I guess loving you is a crime
these are the things said to me by the men
I send to block island
exes and lovers who continuously disrespected me
and never could listen to my no
or respect my boundaries when we tried to be friends
one of them I had to threaten to expose with the story
Of how I broke his dick
the rest made me feel a deep sense of guilt
and covered me with toxic shame for letting them
near me
and I yell at that sick version of myself asking her
βWhat the fuck girl, what was wrong with youβ
she responds, βI was mentally ill and impulsive,lolβ
and I try to find forgiveness for all of us
trying to not victimize or villainize but the fire of anger
rises up and I hate them and me
for ever exchanging energies with them
the only lesson learn in this is
be careful, be wary of the nice guys
the guys who talk a big game about respect
and still make you an object of their obsession
theyβre the ones most likely to break you apart