poetry: best birthday gift

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

best birthday gift ever

He came into my life on a cold february night-
He decided to make a dramatic entrance
on my 24th birthday
He didn’t mean to steal my thunder as he tried
to make his entrance-a month beforehand
But fortunately the doctors stopped
his almost too sudden arrival
But that cold February night-
was the right time for him
I wanted to go the natural route
but he had other plans with the horrible pain he caused
EPIDURAL PLEASE-LIKE RIGHT NOW
OR I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M GETTING
THIS CHILD OUT
Within minutes he was out and once again
I was in love but this time with the life I created

poetry: stumble

I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

my and my sensitive soul…sigh

I stumble and fall all the time
but no one knows about it
I’m great at masking my pain
with makeup, pretty dress, and statuses
about how I’m living my best life
when in reality, I fantasize about disappearing
into a black hole
because life feels like a terrible chore
that messes with my sensitive soul

poetry: I trust myself

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

it’s time to trust my intuition

I fall in love and obsessed over these concepts over who I should be,
over who I should love, over who I should mirror
I read and read books on BPD, mental health, and trauma constantly
I take advice from influencers, poets, and psychologists on social media
Seriously thinking this is how I heal, this is how I become healthy
but that’s a lie-
while everything I do helps me
I need to listen to my intuition more
I need to trust myself more
and acknowledge I’m doing enough
and come to an understanding I am on my heroine’s journey
that’s unique only to me
honor my truth within me, accept it, and that’s how I begin to really heal

poetry: an open letter to year 42

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

me on my birthday last year, this heroine spent her birthday working…

I’m at year 42 and I’m only getting started on my heroine’s journey
I’ve learned so much about myself and my toxic patterns in year 41
I understand now how my overreactions, my need to avoid conflict
my need to please were all trauma responses learned from childhood
where my emotions were never validated
I now hold a world of knowledge, confidence, and power within me
and on year 42, I ready to act like the badass Incan Queen
I make myself out to be
Except this year I’ll act out of love and compassion
and not out of revenge and spite
even when I’m pissed, angry at someone or at something
I need to dig in deep and feel that grief
instead of immediately throwing out accusations
and blaming everyone but me
Understand it’s me projecting my insecurities
This year I’ll continue my heroine’s journey in healing and recovery
but I’ll try to do it more with grace, with intent and compassion
for myself and others
I’ll cover myself in love from God, the universe, and my ancestors
with all of that love act out of a pure and intentional energy
that will continue to help grow and evolve

poetry: emotional eater

I wrote this poem in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020.

Eating away my emotions with junk food and sugar
is healthier than meth and taking pills to sleep forever
Each bite I take and swallow keeps me alive
and further from a sweet death that tempts me
Food becomes the driving force behind my mediocre existence
until I can find a new obsession

poetry: i’m finally ready

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I got a blank space….and I’ll write your name

This time I feel like I’ve finally settled most of my soul’s score
by doing so much inner work
I still have toxic and angry moments but they no longer consume me
This year I’m manifesting a new kind of love energy
Someone who can match my wild and creative energy
Someone who values me as a whole person
and doesn’t just fall in lust with my body
Someone brave enough to love me and doesn’t scare easily
when I’m challenging and moody
this year I’m opening myself to love energy
who makes me laugh, who inspires me
I think I’m finally ready

poetry: two miguels

I wrote this poem in February of 2021.

my grandfather and son got that Miguel rizz

One was born in the beginning of the 20th century
the other was born in the beginning of the 21st century
one was born out of unplanned wedlock
one was a planned product of his parent’s love
one was taught hatred for blacks and cholos
the other was taught blacks lives matter and equality for everyone
one had misogynistic tendencies thanks to his machismo culture
the other other is that gender roles and conventions are a joke
One went through the Spanish flu times
the other is going through Covid times
both shares similar genes generations apart
both share the same Spanish name
one could not been possible without the other

poetry: one day

I wrote this in February of 2020.

me in February of 2020

One day you’ll be a bad dream I’ll wake up from
One day someone will come along and you’ll be a distant memory
of an intense and toxic past who took over my life for a while
One day I’ll be loved by someone the way you could never love me
One day I’ll look back on our time together and regret every moment wasted on you
One day you won’t haunt my soul and mind
One day you will no longer be my muse
One day is here, now and forever