I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
gratitude taste like mami’s sopa de pollo
gratitude smells like my lover’s cologne
gratitude feels like a warm hug from my son
gratitude sounds like my sister’s car in my driveway
gratitude looks like me looking at the Goddess in the mirror
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
sometimes I feel like I invade places I’m not meant to be in
I feel too immigrant, too loud, too intense, too othered
but then I remember, I’m not doing this just for me
I’m doing this for all of the version before me
who couldn’t have ever imagined taking up spaces
in places that felt foreign to her
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I longed and longed and longed to feel whole
until I planted my feet on the soil I was born on
until I breathed the air my parents and ancestors inhaled
until I tasted flavors from almost a lifetime ago
I longed and longed and longed to feel whole
until I returned to my homeland
and it was the piece of the puzzle found
I needed to finally complete me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Lukewarm response as I suggest coming to see you
and my gut tells me something is amiss
telling me you miss me
but dodge an opportunity to see me
Can’t say why or make plans to see me
and I change my relationship status to single
confused, frustrated
not understanding how I got here
almost begging another man for crumbs
of affection for the bare minimum
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
I’m an expert at navigating the gray and vague trying to romanticize
and make fires out of the smallest of sparks
deluding myself into thinking if I stick around long enough
He’ll realize I’m the one
I wrote this poem in September of 2021.
I long to run free in a world free from prejudice and pride
I long to run free in a world free from judgment and ignorance
I long to run free in a world that accepts people like me
I long to run free in a world where I’m not hypervigilant
about toning myself down
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Sometimes the poem just writes itself
without asking me what I want
the rage, the grief,over what this world
is becoming seeps out of my pen
and stains the paper I wanted to write
a love poem on
I wrote this poem in September of 2019 in response to El Paso Walmart Shooting on August 3rd of 2019. Here is a link to it : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2019_El_Paso_Walmart_shooting
he came for my people
followed the rhetoric of our hate fueled president
men, women, children killed in cold blood
because they were the wrong race, the wrong color
spoke the wrong language
he came for “US”
the so-called invaders
him at just 21 years old filled with hatred from head to toe
brainwashed by white supremacy
twenty two lives taken as a consequence of a monstrous ideology
twenty two families who will forever grieve and mourn
the neverending sorrow loss of their loved ones taken too soon
twenty two families with an infinity of questions and no real answers
and as usual the useless thoughts and prayers come,
and the law makers are the worst,
making empty promises to fight this American epidemic
but after a few days, they will forget like everyone else
it’s no longer a question of why this happened
tt’s become a question of when will be the next time
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My jealousy is green and monstrous-
Its big and dramatic
It’s almost epic and i’m like dammit
I wish I wasn’t like this
but maybe it’s time to accept it
it’s not that I’m toxic
Or that something is wrong with me
I just need a lover who only has eyes for me,
who doesn’t think about other options
when he’s with me
who’s so obsessed with me,
I’m like the air he needs to breathe
in order to live
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
floating across the water, I’ve never felt more loved, I’ve never felt safer
and there’s something magical about this moment,
a poem or a picture I can’t capture
how I look like in utmost serenity and peace
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
We danced and danced until we fell into each other
and consummated our desire
and you told me you loved me for the first time
it was then and there I knew we’d be together
the rest of our lives
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
I believe a good poem
will move you in such a way
it will evoke some emotion in you
I believe a great poem
will rip you apart, punch you in the gut
and render you completely speechless
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
I made promises to myself after your departure-
I promise to be completely myself for next love candidate-
No matter how crazy that may look like-
I promise to show him my prose and poetry-
even if it opens a door to hurtful truths
he deserves to know my past if he wants to be part of my present
and form a part of my future-
I promise to not place him on a pedestal
I’ll look for his humanity, truth, and accept him for who he is
and no matter how much I love him-
I won’t accommodate to him or compromise my integrity
He’ll have to learn to live with and love the strong woman I am today
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the shelf of my bookcase breaks, and my poetry notebooks fall
every single one of my love stories scattered on the floor
Failure after failure
Were any of them worth the effort?
Was the experience worth the suffering?
Maybe it was for the inspiration behind my prose and poetry
and the growth I’ve had
Still, that doesn’t seem like an adequate answer
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
Back to black blast from my car radio as I drive aimlessly in the rain
I have a boyfriend but I still feel alone
It turns out that being in a relationship isn’t the cure for my loneliness after all
Some people will say it’s the long distance, others will say it’s how I still keep my guard up
I think it’s a mixture of both and how I have a tendency to fuck up in love
