I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

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
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

their used knicknacks, their used clothes
their used whatever is taking up too much space
in their closet or garage
all of this is given to their browner and poorer
counterparts
act like ever act of charity will bring them
one step closer to heaven
when at times their recipients feel
like itβs a act of condescension, arrogance
a way to remind them where they belong
a way to remind them of their working
class status
the haves need the have nots to have someone
to feel superior to
while the have nots cannot escape
the cycle of poverty
due to the greed of the haves
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

Iβm not the one you want
or the one youβll ever take home
to meet your mama
but Iβm the one etched in your mind,
the one who appears in your dreams
the one you will never forget about
and one of your few regrets
and you,
you were another story among many
another obsession of my past
I hardly ever think about
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

to see my american dream I just need to step into my backyard
and look at my holy trinity who call me mom
theyβre the ones I try to better myself for
theyβre the one who make my immigrant existence
worth living for
theyβre my american dream wrapped up in burps, dark humor
and love
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

as long as there is breath left in me
I will try
try to be a good mom to my kids
try to tell my story
try to love everyone the best way
i can
try to find understanding
for what happened to me
try to find joy in the most ordinary
of moments
try to dance my way through
my most depressive episodes
try find my inner peace and calm
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

hold onto hope, donβt let go
one day youβll laugh about this
one day youβll be okay
hold onto hope, donβt let go
Remember all of the times
youβve been strong
Remember all of the times
you put one foot in front of the other
hold onto hope, donβt let go
your story is still being written
youβre still in time to change
your narrative
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

my body feels like a rundown shack
that’s crumbling down slowly
I canβt get up in the morning
without my knee or hip
bitching and moaning
without me groaning in pain
and mumbling to myself
βOmg, another stupid dayβ
and cursing my genetics
that make me watch everything
I eat
and again I wonder
am I paying a karmic debt
for my colonizer ancestors
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

youβve change from spring to autumn within moments
never knew if I should wear my feelings on my sleeve
never knew if I should wear layers of cynicism
Iβve made it as simple as possible for you
and nothing happens
and slowly my hope of love recedes in the background
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

this modern world got my victorian and pure heart all fucked up
donβt know which way is up
donβt know which way is down
donβt know what is right
donβt know what is wrong
I want someoneβs hand to hold but they reach for my breast
I want innocent kisses on the cheek
but they reach for the heaven between my thighs
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

everyone I meet wants to fix me
my hair is wild and indomitable
my grammar is atrocious
my laugh is too loud
and we canβt forget about my crooked teeth
and while most of them mean well
I wonder whatβs so wrong with me
that people always fixate on my flaws
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

I hope this story is buried for a final time
and you donβt pop up again
and I have to play whack an asshole
once again
blocking you on yet another platform
would the universe be kind enough this time
for it to be good riddance forever
cause Iβm tired of my past mistakes
to constantly come out of nowhere
to disturb my present
I wrote this poem in June of 2024. It was inspired by the disappearance of little Latina girl in my area that I didn’t feel was getting enough media attention.

I pray for the little brown girl lost in Gainesville
the one thatβs my sonβs age
the one that looks like my sister at that age
the one who has my mamiβs name
I pray sheβs found alive
I pray that she finds warmth in her parents
arms soon
I pray more of a big deal is made out of
her disappearance
and sheβs found quickly
because Iβm sure that if this little girl
had been a jonbenet look alike
more would have been done to find her
and bring her back to her family
her community
thatβs been missing her greatly
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

Iβm ready for steak dinners and an expensive bottle of chardonnay
shared over awkward getting to know you conversations
with no expectations to put out
Iβll be a completely different woman when Iβm dating again
a woman selective about who allows near her
a woman who no longer seeks validation and attention
from the wrong men