My body slowly starts to rebel against the daily stress I put on it It says, βstop this nonsense, youβre trying to do too much constantly. hardly stopping to catch your breath Constantly moving with a fast pace, tying up your worth with how productive you can be when just breathing, just existing is enoughβ
I was ready to give up Until I felt a sudden caress on my hand you looked at me with desire, and I blushed and our passion was awakened from a year-long deep sleep Is this a short-lived daydream? or the impossibility of our new reality?
another new year is here another season of my life will soon be renewed more chances for new experiences and adventures more opportunities to fuck things up and give fodder to the inner critic in me to emotionally beat me up more time to question myself am I doing enough for me and my kids to prosper more moments of joy and laughter with my boys as they get older and continue to find their autonomy more grief and sadness as the working class and marginalized communities continue to be stepped on more memories made that ignite a spark of creativity within me another new year another transformation under construction
I wrote this poem earlier this month for a future version of myself. I wanted to end 2024 with a hopeful and romantic note.
lighting hits me and Iβm in love all over again this time I take my vows seriously this time I believe in the whole βtil death do us partβ bit this time itβs far from perfect and ideal but for once in my life weβre enough for each other and there are no seconds thoughts that this is true love
I drank the last drop of the wine you gave me as I sing out my guts to lyrics that reminds me of you the worst of my ideas, the worst of my crimes I drank the last drop of the wine you gave me hoping that this is the last bit of closure I need from you and that from now on weβll both live our lives free and clear of each other and soon you both fade into the background of my memory and soon you stop showing up in my dreams
my low rent bennifer phase lasted a total of 19 days before I blocked him
just call me J.Lo without the ass because my ex (if we can even call him that) came back to me after 2 years of sobriety weβre the low rent version of Bennifer except weβre not millionaires or celebrities (yet) Iβm just a working class immigrant poet and heβs my ex whatevership Nordic muse
beast hurry up and come find me itβs been a year since Iβve been married two years since I had sex and three years since Iβve been in real relationship Iβm a thirsty and horny yearning to break my vow of celibacy
August came and I hold onto the few slivers of hope left in me as I reach another rock bottom self correcting and not making myself a victim making sure Iβm better than yesterday Trying my best to control my emotions knowing that somewhere in the wash of this downward spiral will come the biggest silver lining
I wash my hands of all my past sins my wrongs never defined me It was a toxic narrative I swallowed whole when I was addicted to suffering and being a martyr
the real tragedy is no one has gotten me this cake yet
ancestor, ancestor- which alcohol goes best with making shitty life decisions ancestors says, not the PBR, not the michelob ultra light, itβs too basic of an energy for the kind of epic shitty life decisions you tend to make donβt reach for the margarita wine either, too obvious, too much of a cliche and you already have plenty of them in your poetry Go for the Guiness six pack make your shitty life decisions with some English class since most of your terrible decisions tend to include some asshole whose ancestors are colonizer Englishmen
for almost three years Iβve been waiting for the next guy to appear as some kind of hero, as some kind of reward for all of my effort Iβve put into myself and the life Iβve built Subconsciously I did this Even as I publicly roared about being empowered on my own I still wanted someone to be my sanctuary to lay my love in And I wrote, manifested, schemed, flirted got obsessed with men who were just meant to be friends Thinking, gosh, if I hang on long enough, heβll come around this might work out but today I discovered the only hero for me is the woman in the mirror who still manages to get out of bed even on the bad days when sheβs too tired to function when sheβs exhausted by all of it
itβs the wild wild west inside my head itβs where my demons decide to come out to play they dance with traumatic memories making my fears and insecurities come out to the surface itβs the wild wild west inside my head being insane becomes my personality and aesthetic scaring away any potential love candidates itβs been a long time since I held someoneβs hand much less been in someoneβs bed Itβs the wild wild went inside my head And I wonder when will the demons get tired and leave so maybe one day Iβm not so jaded so maybe one day I give someone the chance to take me out on a date
In bridging the gaps of my story that have remained unresolved every story, every poem leads to pieces of healing and closure Iβve been desperately search for since I can remember Whatever my child self , my teenage self couldnβt voice back then My middle age self brings to the surface and while at times itβs difficult and terrifying itβs needed in the process of healing and evolving
take slow breaths and wash your hands youβre fine, youβre okay in fact youβre more than okay youβre fucking wonderful darling this moment of intense grief and anxiety reminds you that youβre human and you canβt always play the role of strong and resilient Queen in front of the world sometimes you have to pause, calm down, breathe and let everything out be vulnerable, be soft this is how you start to feel integrated and whole