I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Maybe it’s lack of sex or lack of sleep but I must declare-
Christopher Columbus is a piece of shit
Maybe it’s my own insecurities or maybe it’s a projection
but I must say you can get away with murder
if you’re a white male
Maybe it’s the BPD and the depression
But I must scream FUCK WHITE SUPREMACY
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Eliza, eliza, eliza
what have you done?
Entering a beauty content you have no business entering
While you’re beautiful ,confident and powerful-
Beauty contests aren’t for you when european beauty standards
rule society
it’s not that you’re less than them
It’s just that your type of beauty is only meant to be fetishized
to be fantasized about
your beauty is a temporary place for men
your beauty can’t keep a man, only excite men
So while I’ll share the link
and every now and then remind people to vote for you
Remember your worth is not wrapped up in your beauty
Because you’re more than your good looks
You’re everything
Kind, loyal, intelligent, witty, sexy, everything a man can dream of
A woman a man can really love and be loyal to
You just haven’t met him yet
Trust is the process-trust in God’s divine timing
I wrote this poem in October 2022.
Maybe I need a new love story-even if it’s temporary
so I can find relief and some peace from this loneliness
That’s making me into an insane mess
Maybe losing myself in someone else
Will stop making me feel less-
or perhaps what’s really happening
It’s me allowing my depression talk me into finding a solution-
for my neverending frustration with healing and growth
and always having to look within for what I need
But perhaps if I had somebody maybe for once, I could just be
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: El Pasado
a tsunami of trauma washes over me and I regress to being 16-
as I walk on the beach where I first fell in love
as I stand on the bridge where I lost my shit and almost jumped off-
regret and guilt sit at the bottom of my stomach
and I want to vomit
Instead, I pause and count to ten and breathe
and I’m transported back to my present
I’m safe again in my body-
as I come to accept and love
the immature and impulsive girl I once was
who carelessly gave herself to others
who never thought about the consequences
and took risks
she wasn’t the atrocity I made her out to be-
she was just in a rush to live her life
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
To my sons, when I leave the earth
Remember I am with you always
I am in my oldest son’s resilience
I am in my middle son’s dark humor
I am in my youngest son’s bright energy
I exist in your laughter, in your cries,
in your failures, in your wins
I am and always will be with you
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
The transformation is complete
from caterpillar and butterfly
It was full of painful epiphanies that brought an epic catharsis
It was life changing and transcendental
Facing my fears, driving out the toxicity within
Acknowledging brutal truths, letting go of regrets
and embracing my divine duality
I’ve finally become the butterfly I was always meant to be
who flies and lands on her own terms
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the nostalgia of Lima sets in
and I ache for the sights, sounds, and warmth
of my homeland-
even though it’s been a few days
I want to go back already
I don’t feel myself fully in American
my body’s here but my spirit was left in lima
maybe because the few memories I have of Lima
are happy and mostly pure from trauma
whereas in America
it’s been tragedy after tragedy
disappointment after disappointment
and while I’ve planted my roots here with my children
my spirit now resides somewhere in Lima
Aqui esta la version en espanol de este poema:
PoesÃa: Parar de Amarte
One day the memory of you will fade away
and my heart will be grateful for that-
because I can’t move on to a new love story
until I stop dreaming of you
until I stop writing about you
It wouldn’t be fair to me or to him
to attempt to write a new love story
when remnants of the old one
still show up in my poetry
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
Poesia: Quisiera Ser
let’s forget our past love stories
and focus on the one we’re living
the one we’re still writing
let’s agree that anyone before you,
anyone before me
were just practice for the honest and magical
love we’re experiencing
let’s focus on our present
and start planning our future
that’s waiting to be lived
that’s waiting to be written
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
My son holds the universe in his eyes
with his potential, with his sense of wonder
his eyes are not yet jaded by the inhumanity of this world
and I dread when the day comes
as his innocence starts to fade
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
running in the sun warms my body, warms my thoughts
it invokes my need to worship it like my ancestors
before the colonizers declared it wrong and pagan
but they couldn’t erase my blood and my DNA
and my deep connection to the Sun,
my ancestral GOD
Always bringing me to the surface of gratitude and love
Life on the BPD 