I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

you look lost in your thoughts
is there something wrong, something I did-
whatβs on your mind that makes you silent and sad
tell me whatβs going on-
so I can help lessen your burden
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.

A giant pink bow comes apart and disintegrates
and my female ancestors and all of the women
on my timeline cry
tears of rage, tears of grief
we know itβs the beginning of the end
on this gloomy november day
Soon weβll be relegated to second class citizens
soon some of us will immigrate to other countries
so we donβt end up like handmaidens
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

I wish I could forgive everyone who did me harm-
but something in me won’t allow me too
maybe itβs unprocessed trauma that still wants to speak-
about every single atrocity Iβve experienced
at the hands of those who said
they care for me and love me
I really wish I was better than this-
constantly holding onto these old grudges
but something in me still needs to heal
so I can stop obsessing about revenge
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.

empowerment is sold as a way to heal ourselves
as a way to feel better
itβs commodified and made into a product to be consumed
in books, in self help guru from the gram
but really, it should have been something
we were taught from birth
not something we are trying to attain in our middle age
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

breathing out the past, inhaling the future
I fall into emotional stability and itβs uncomfortable
I didnβt understand or know how to live a life without chaos
because for most of my life
I danced in the fire of chaos-wildly swinging everywhere
Discordant and without direction
And now I found rhythm along with direction
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.

in 2021, I ventured from the moon and landed on the ace of pentacles
never expecting to experience a revolution of self love
never expecting to one day feel like I was enough
but when I found myself down and alone
with no one to lift me up
I had to find my inner strength, my queen resilience
to slowly lift myself up and walk and eventually run
towards the light my ancestors turned on for me
it became a marathon of healing with ugly twists
where I stumbled at times
but eventually I found a rhythm in my routine
that was conducive to my healing journey
and I learned to dance with life
life no longer happened to me as I sat quietly
and in my misery
this time I danced with life stomping my feet
loudly and dramatically
no longer caring what others thoughts of me
from that moment on
I became the heroine and my own muse
in my life movie
owning everything that happened to me
Understanding the power and magic
I always held within
had been and will always be too much for others
but it will always be right for me
With cherry chapstick, I felt like a woman
I felt like a sexy vixen from the telenovelas
even though I was only 9-
and while everyone around me still treated me
like a little girl-
after applying my cherry chapstick
something awakened inside of me
Was it the beginning of puberty?
10/2/22

You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.

i found heaven on friday after 6 months of waiting and anticipating
my heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness
I found hope on tuesday night in his arms
I remembered what it was like to desired and wanted
and I didnβt realize how much I missed heaven and hope
until I found them again the first week of october
now I donβt want to let go of both
now Iβm filled to the brim of my soul
with excitement for what comes next,
for what impossibilities Iβll make into possibilities
into realities in the next stage of my life
I will no longer live life vicariously
and stand on the sidelines
Iβll step out, take risks, fall and stumble many times
Iβm ready
I wrote this poem in October of 2021.

Trauma after trauma
I have withstood
Standing up right away and pretending
everything was fine
There was no time
for tears or processing
of feelings
That was a luxury for
the white upper class
Therapy-pssst
No time or money for
that either –
It’s gringo concept
Self care – thatβs only
for the rich
No, you’re a latina Woman
our people rely on grit
and resilience
There is no time for white pendejadas
No, you’re a latina woman –
you only need the strength
from your ancestors
to survive this life
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.

you chased me and chased me until your persistence finally paid off
and I landed in your bed
and now you wonβt give me the time of day
make lame excuses for not responding to me texts
and Iβm like wow
I never meant to live this cliche in my middle age
but everyone tells me Iβm being dramatic
and my feelings feel almost invalid
except this time I listen to my intuition
that something about what youβre doing is kind of fucked up
going from 100 to 0 once you finally got what you wanted
or maybe this is on me for thinking you had changed
and this time we could have something lovely,
something different
how embarrassing for me to be still be naive at 43
but I guess this is the part where I thank you
for the lesson, for the experience
and to please donβt reach out to me when youβre lonely
There are apps for what you want,
there are women you can pay to service you
without any strings or emotional baggage