I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
not much of choice, get married or become a whore
at 19, she was trapped between a sword
and another sword
either way she’s trapped and kept away from the life
she really wanted to live
either way, her fate would be sealed
with her ink of shame
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I give you the gift of my heart with everything in it
so please be careful with it
I don’t want it to be broken apart again
if you decide to leave on a whim
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’d never say I lost time with any of my love stories-
they all taught me something about myself
They all inspired me to write poetry
and two of them help me create my three kings
even if some of my love stories left me decimated
and almost destroyed me
they were all worthy for the love I felt
the growth and progress I had
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’ve written dozens and dozens of poems about our story of lust and love
but today I found your purpose
with you I found inspiration and motivation to make myself better
hoping you could really love me
hoping you wouldn’t see me as just a sexual commodity
hoping to make myself worthy of you
and while now I see it was a delusion of mine
to do all of these things for your love
it still helped me to become better than before
it still brought me the resilience, strength and courage
to start living the life I always wanted to live
and plan the future I had always dreamed of
with you and after you-
I became the empowered woman I am today
and for that I thank you
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.
me and my family have immigration jokes for day on end
and some of my friends think that’s sick and awful
but its one of the only things
that helps me and my family keep our sanity
in Trump’s American is making fun of our misery and misfortune
it’s how we’ve survived generations of corrupt governments
and wannabe dictators
its how we’ve passed resilience and strength to future generations
sure, we may cry at first as the life we’ve worked hard for
starts falling apart and our plans for the future are shattered
because of a few megarich and corrupt maga idiots
who run our government
but right after we wipe our tears and break out in jokes
and laughter
especially now that what’s supposed to be the land of the free
gets more and more fascist
and we swim closer and closer to nazi waters
the only thing we can do is try to find a way to smile, to laugh,
to find a bit of joy no matter how fucked up in may seem
in this dystopian clusterfuck
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.
rose gold cross ripped from her neck
handcuffs cutting into her smalls wrists
mami and papi can’t explain why
they’re nowhere to be found
she thought officers were supposed to be good people
but they hurl insults at her and call her a criminal
and at 10 she can hardly grasped
the severity of the situation
they tell her over and over again
“we’re taking you back to where you came from”
and it’s beyond her compression
because her birth certificate says Illinois
because America is the only home she’s ever known
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 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 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 January of 2021.
I live in a constant world of confusion
Confused about who I am-
Confused about who I should be-
I live in a strange world of confusion
Confused about how I feel
Confused about how I should feel
I live in a crazy world of confusion
Confused about who I love
Confused about who I should love
I live in a chaotic world of confusion
Constantly and pathetically confused about who is the real me
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
In 2025, I will be braver than ever
I will embody the word empowerment
while embracing softness and vulnerability
I will love and allow myself to be loved
life is really too short to allow my ego
and pride to get in the way
of whatever love story the universe
wants to send me
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and it was what my spirit needed to be resuscitated
into feeling something
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and I couldn’t wait to show mami
she dedicated Hombre Pequeñito to Papi
and we laugh at his expense for a minute
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and I watched her 1957 bio pic with mami
we stood in awe at how progressive it was for its time
but at the same time understood how much progress
still needed to be made for woman kind
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
your boundaries are clear as spring water
I heard them between the gaps of silence
in our texts
you don’t want to encourage any attention from me
or send mixed messages
so instead, you don’t answer or initiate any conversations
and I don’t blame you for this-
After all, I am batshit crazy, I wouldn’t date me either
so I will no longer bother you
I’ll leave you alone
respect the professional boundaries and walls
you have erected
Take this as another sign from the universe
I’m still too damaged for another chance at love
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
within a span of a few minutes, I became my dad and my son became me
he rolls his eyes at me as I give him practical advice on buying a car
is this place reputable?
think of the interest rate
how many miles are on it?
He loses his patience and accuses me of hovering over him
and for the first time I feel empathy and compassion for my dad
Understanding that this parenting gig isn’t easy
and no matter how grown your kids are
It’s hard to let them go and live life according to their own terms
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
Like shipwrecks in a cavern, somehow we came together
putting bandaids of lust to sooth and cover our loneliness
causing chaos and rejecting each other
only to always come back to each other
and it was entertaining for a while
until we both realized it was a waste of time and energy
and fled to different caverns
Life on the BPD 