I wrote this poem in February of 2025.
burning house, no way out
Stuck in bed as I call out for help
no one comes, as the flame gets closer
and closer to me
and there is no way out, is this the end of me
am I about to meet God or Satan or worse
end up in purgatory
I wrote this poem in January of 2022.
Mason like the jar was his name
being a fuckboy was his game
He tried to act wise beyond his 23 years
But he was still wet behind his ears
He thought he could deceive me
and lies and lies and lies he told me
told me he lived with a roommate
when it was really his soul mate
He wanted his ice cream and cake
but I saw through his con game
And right away I stopped our lust filled affair
My respect I needed to firmly declare
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
wrap me up in your sunshine
and allow me to feel your warmth
melt down my frigid walls
with your fire
I wrote this poem in January of 2022.
Nobody knew about our sexcapade
You were a temporary escape
From the emptiness and loneliness
I felt in my suburban adolescence
Nobody knew about me and you
Until I could no longer hide
the living creature inside
Nobody knew about me and you
Until my belly grew and grew
And half of it was you
Nobody knew about our short fling
Until one day I had to sing
I’m pregnant with a stranger’s baby
No,he’ll never be the one or even a maybe
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 2018 .
I’m disappointed once again -being here with you
You represent everything I thought I wanted
But-
You don’t compare to him
You make my body sing with pleasure
but don’t sweep up the mess that I am
You are there to help me escape
but never to rescue me
SO I choose him
Who chooses to be there for me
When I chase death in a bathtub or a bottle
Because while sex and lust feels good
when it’s happening
It doesn’t compare to the love
and support he’s provided in keeping me alive
So I say goodbye to a life
Full of lust filled fantasies
and accept the one and only who truly
cares for me
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 2020.
She’s an American
I’m an immigrant
She loves Trump
I’m a borderline socialist
She believes in money and brand names
I believe in love and poetry
Born from the same womb
But living in different worlds
She’s upper middle class
I’m working class
She’s latina when it suits her
I’m latina every single day
She’s the definition of assimilation
I get called out by HR for being too Peruvian
She’s the American Dream
And I’m the immigrant
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
Life on the BPD 