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Poetry: Refusal

I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was pregnant with my second child and mad at my boyfriend (future husband) for his lack of affection and attention to me. I was obviously very upset when I wrote this poem and instead of talking to him I wrote and bottled up my anger.

You refuse to see

All the hurt you’re causing me

With your indifferent ways

It’s a miracle you haven’t yet gone astray

You refuse to see

Our son is paying the fee

He may still be in my belly

But the tears you cause me

Also affect him

You refuse to see

That one day soon you’ll lose me 

If you don’t stop 

Being so fucking cold. 

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Poetry: Uncaring

I wrote this poem in 2004 about my husband, then boyfriend. I guess I was mad about his lack of affection. As you can see, this is a pattern for me. I bottle my emotions up until one day I explode.

If you don’t want any of this 

You should just leave 

I can’t take anymore 

Of your uncaring words

I don’t want to keep you from 

Having your fun

So just go away 

You only hurt me if you stay

Go back to the way you used to be

Alone, happy, and free

And take your precious independence

You prefer  it to our relationship nonsense

So stop acting like you care

To us, it wouldn’t be fair

Adieu, adios, and goodbye

To our enormous love lie

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Poetry: Frigid

I wrote this in 2004 about my husband who I thought was being distant at the time. As you can guess, I don’t deal with rejection well at all and this is one example of many of how my mind deals with it.

Your frigid ways turn me into nothing

I don’t ask for much 

but to you I ask for the world

I try so hard to make something 

Out of the nothing 

That has become us…

But all of it is meaningless to you

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Poetry: Resignation

From the ages of 18 to 23, I worked for a government agency as an interpreter. I was well-liked by many of my coworkers and my first supervisor was appreciative of me. I was very good at my job and even cross-trained in many other areas that didn’t “pertain to my job”. However, at that job, I was also bullied and discriminated against for being Latina. I was also slut-shamed by my second supervisor and coworkers the latter 2 years I was there. I don’t want to say I deserved being slut-shamed but I’ll just say that I trusted the wrong coworkers with my private life and they went on to gossip about me to everyone. It was also a very stressful environment because of the work I did and clients I had to interact with. My depression and anxiety went haywire. In 2003, I decided to enroll in my local community college and major in English. In 2004, I was trying to go to school full time, work full time, and deal with my child’s new autism diagnosis. I was breaking down mentally and something had to give so I quit this job. I was fucking done. And this poem was inspired by that moment. I thought I had processed this trauma until it came back up in therapy in the summer of 2021. I didn’t realize it at the time but I had suffered a deep racial trauma that impacted me and still triggered reactions in me. I was angry. There is actually way more to this story and one day I’ll share it when I’m ready.

So much anxiety and depression hidden behind that smile 😭

This was the hardest thing I did

but it had to be done

I couldn’t stand the gossip

or the two faces of everyone

the way they pretended to be my friend

but the minute I turned my back to them

they talked like I was the biggest wench

so much envy and hate

I HAVE TO ESCAPE 

FROM THIS MISERABLE FATE!

so today I resigned

I didn’t tell them why

all I know is that for the first time

in a really long time

I feel something like happy

so long to the only place I have known

for an almost five year term

for once I breathe a sigh of relief

I finally had the courage to leave

so long to the hypocrisy of this place

to let myself stay here for another day

would only be a fucking waste

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Poetry: Poor and Destitute

I wrote this in 2004 inspired by a rough family situation I was going through at the time. I needed to process what was happening in some way because I couldn’t confront the person. And well, I wrote this narrative poem.

Poor and destitute

in front of me she stood

asking for shelter and food

with tears streaming down her cheek

she kept on repeating

“let me stay with you tonight,

I promise, one day I’ll make things right”

I didn’t know what to do

for a while I just stood

trying to decide

if what I was about to do was right

so with pain in my heart

I had to say

“please go away”

she tried to resist

by giving me a guilt trip

and I  told her once again

“please go away”

she still wouldn’t listen 

and made me listen to her reasons

this time I lost control 

and yelled at her to

“PLEASE GO AWAY

IF YOU DON’T WANT ME 

TO GO CRAZY”

this time she listened to me

maybe she does care for me

it hurt to turn her away

but I couldn’t be swayed

to feel sorry for her

and allow her

to ruin my world

so in the end

this was the dreadful when

I would have to decide 

between saving her or me 

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Poetry:Childhood Lies

I wrote this in 2003 reflecting on the immigration of me and my family. The first six year we were in the United States was a nightmare. I’m not sure how much I will share of my immigration story because of all the trauma involved.

Cuzco, Peru -Christmas of “85, I’m the one in the pigtails

I was five at the time
when my parents lied
they said it was going to be great
our brand new fate
we were going away
so we could be safe
we weren’t exactly prepared for
the horrors we would endure
the hardships and struggles
the wonder of it all
why did they persuade us
in them we lost our trust
now we’ll never again believe
what they want us to see

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Poetry: Our Spot

I wrote this in February of 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about Lucas.

I sit here at what once was our “spot”

and contemplate our last conversation

And I think over and over again how that last phrase got to 

“Me and my wife had a long talk-and we decided to work things out”

I know I should have been happy but I was sad

I know I should’ve smiled but instead I cried

Of course I hid this very well from you

And the few words I could muster up was

“Well that’s good, I’m happy for you”

And I wonder why when I should’ve been happy for you, my friend

But I was sad for me

I sit down and wonder why

I always end up with the same lost guy

Who doesn’t know what he wants and hurts me tons

Who uses me just as an escape 

to get away from his mate

Who never wants to tell me I love you

and thinks of me as anything but the one

who never cares after our tragic love affair fails

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Poetry: Last Week

I wrote this in February of 2004 after my car accident after I was feeling lost and deep sense of despair and worthlessness. It was a trauma that would affect me for many years to come. I’ll tell the story of the accident one day when I’m ready to.

Last week I was where I needed to be

Today I am lost again with no sense of who I am

Or where I want to go

They tell me I’m a mother, daughter, coworker, 

Student, sister, and girlfriend

But I don’t seem be right fit into any of those roles

So can somebody instruct me

on how to get to where I once was 

Or more importantly on how to be happy just to be me

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Poetry: Dear Son

I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was frustrated with Matt and blamed him for my life going awry. Looking back, it was misplaced blame on a situation that only I had control over. At the time, it was much easier to blame Matt rather than take a look at myself and how I was responsible for the mess I made of my life.

Dear son

How do I stop

from feeling all of this resentment and anger

at the deadbeat who calls himself your dad?

Dear son

Will I ever feel better

about our almost dead-end situation

your dad has put us in?

Dear son

Will you ever forgive me

for not having everything

someone as wonderful as you should have?

Dear son

Can you show me where to

find a glimmer of hope

and that without him

 both of us will be alright?

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Poetry: False Fairy Tale

So I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was dating my husband and maybe I was foreshadowing my future with him (sort of-haha). I think that maybe I was paranoid he had someone else at the time because he was such a private person. Reflecting on this now is kind of strange because I was the one that ended up with the indiscretions. I was 22 when I wrote this and I have I think that this is a good example of “splitting” meaning that I went to black and white thinking about him.

FALSE FAIRY TALE

Everyone believes that you and I 

 are the real deal

That we are perfect

  and don’t have issues

Little do they know

  that you treat me with no worth

That to you

  I am not your only girl

That I close my eyes and ears

  and  deny to myself the fact

That your indiscretions are real

  that  you just used me as a tool

To have everyone fooled

  That you have the perfect wife

And you are the perfect husband 

  but  I am too tired of this

False fairy tale

  I have to get out of this lie

Before I lose what’s important

  for  the sake of your arrogance

So tonight I leave our once “happy” home

  so  I won’t lose 

All that’s left of me