I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I’ve been called an angel by many men and treated as such
and it never worked out and they always left me
because they couldn’t accept the devil in me
I’m more than just a pretty girl always smiling for you-
at times I’m also a crazy girl who breaks out in tears spontaneously
I’m a depressed girl who sometimes loses perspective of it all
If you’re gonna love the angel, you also have to accept and love
the devil in me
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
a shot of eggnog for every time love went wrong
and I end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning
something about the holidays always triggers my depression
and now that the kids are older I no longer have to fake cheerfulness
to be a mom to them
and now that I’m alone once again, I regress back to the bitter bitch
I was before him
and instead of reaching out to him and sending him the dozens of poems
about his departure
Instead, I drink several shots of alcoholic eggnog while listening to olivia rodrigo
as I go into hysterics rereading every single chapter in my book of lust and love
trying to accept I’ll always be a failure in love
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
Become medusa the minute I’m jealous,
left for another or ignored
and out comes my pouts about how
I’ve been so wrong
I become a monstrosity of absurdity
as I distort reality
but really, none of it was really that deep
all these men were silly passing up
a masterpiece like me
and none of the ever deserved
my angry or creative energy
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
tucked behind twinkling lights is the magic of a child’s eyes
so full of joy and excitement for the holiday season
at 4, nothing bad has happened to taint his view of life
at 4, he dreams of Santa Claus, hot chocolate, and polar express
at 4, he still holds a heart full of wonder and awe of the world
at 4, he’s still innocent
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
Try to touch the ache of alienation with my pen
writing poems to find
a find a sense of belonging
a sense of community
something beyond the platter of nonsense reality serves
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
held her hand until she took her last breath
he cried and wrote a poem about that moment
it was the only thing he knew to do
after losing her
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
until we meet again, Peru
i’ll hold you in my heart and dream about the warmth of my tia
and remember the taste of ceviche and carapulcra
and the smell of the busy city streets with too much traffic
America can never compare to your rich history or the warmth of your people
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
my roots are locked in a this land
that calls me an other, a forever foreigner
a land where I’ve never felt welcomed
and yet this is what I call home
this is where I went to school
this is where my children were born and raised
this is the only other place I’ve called home
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
the breeze kissed my face in Lima as we drove past the ocean
and I was enchanted I was in love
with the place I was born in
with the place of my ancestors
my Peru is beautiful and magnificent
with a rich history of a people who have been conquered,
of a people who have endured –
of a proud people who carry their patriotism in their hearts and bones
and the best part-I get to call this place home
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in the dark shadows of the earth
lies the outliers and outcasts
the ones we many times ignore
or only talk about in quiet whispers
we pity them, we’re afraid of them, we avoid them
we don’t want to catch their disease of poverty or insanity
we don’t know how to see their humanity
and honestly it makes us, and not them, the real monsters
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in Lima, I never had to tone down my theatrics
everyone was just like me
not filtering what was on their mind
they left no thoughts behind
loud and emotional is seen as normal
passionate is the standard
i never had to reign myself in
I could just be without thinking
without doing any explaining
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
drove towards the moon, full of uncertainty and ambiguity
Wondering what’s next for me, tired of being the foundation
tired of acting like I don’t crash out
Drove towards the moon full of uncertainty and ambiguity
trying to manifest something softer and calmer for myself
where I’m not fighting for survival
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I don’t want to work that extra shift but my discover statement
tells me otherwise-
it tells me that once again I’m falling into a world of debt-
for daring to live a life above my means, above my class
and if I’m not careful I can slip back into poverty status
so I’ll work that extra shift and stop trying to live
a higher class life that’s not meant for me yet-
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
I sigh at the horizon in front of me as L.A is under siege again
and this time they’ve declared a state of emergency
I want to avoid the news, turn off my phone for a few days,
lock myself away in a cabin with my boyfriend
somewhere in the appalachian mountains
where I can forget the rest of the world
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
I wasn’t raised to look away in the face of injustice
or when the safety of my loved ones are compromised
instead I remain hypervigilant
Always on alert of this administration’s next dickhead move
hoping it’s enough to keep my loved ones protected
from chaos and destruction
hoping one day this madness will end
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
let’s take a midnight flight to Tokyo and get lost in Japan
like that Shawn Mendes song
let’s eat great sushi if there is such a thing
and pretend we’re 15 again
and so free spirited and carefree
