I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
the plane slowly takes off
and I take flight with it
I leave behind past troubles,past trauma
and go on an adventure
to find healing and the best version of myself
poetry: flying to Lima
poetry: last time
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
last time I saw her, she was on her 5th husband
she didn’t know how to be alone, stand up on her own
always needed a man by her side
and even as she aged and her looks waned
she had her aryan blonde blue eyed looks to get her by
it was a crystalized existence
something about her frozen in time
someone had never taught her that alone
she was enough
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poetry: beautiful
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
and the roses never wilted,
they just transformed into flowers
never seen before
for a while it looked like they were dying
as they slowly turned gray and then black
but then they bloomed into something different,
a unique kind of beautiful
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Poetry: gratitude
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
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poetry: sometimes
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
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poetry: complete
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
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poetry: walmart
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
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poetry: 1st of September
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
september , september, september
please be calmer, please be kinder
please bring an air of prosperity
so I can dig myself out of the financial hole
I’ve found myself in
please allow me some time to breathe, rest,
and reset
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poetry: good vs great
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
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poetry: consequences
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards
everytime I start to believe in love it never works out
Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction
and i try and try again only always to have the same ending
and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me
to endure another love failure
someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind
about me on a whim
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen
notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief
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poetry: summer of 2025
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
from L.A burning to alligator alcatraz to sydney sweeney
to hash browns
this has been the strangest summer
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poetry: TBH
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My love data tells me I shouldn’t try again because every time
I crash and burn and cause trauma and drama
because every time it ends, I get hateful and want revenge
and While I do appreciate the poetry that comes
after every broken relationship
I don’t think I can withstand the heartbreak and devastation
the next time it ends
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poetry: back patio
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
When I think of the moon, I always think of your silhouette against it
maybe it has to do with the many nights spent fighting in your back patio
maybe it has to do with nostalgia catching up to me in the heat of august
in the midst of many transitions
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poetry: IHOP
I wrote this poem in August of 2020.
I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP
across your apartment complex
As I was eating up my loneliness
with scrambled eggs and coffee
I hoped you couldn’t see remnants
of tears that had fallen before you came
and you sat across from me
and as we awkwardly made conversation
I wondered if you would be the one
to breathe new life into my almost dead existence
I wondered if your kiss would help me
reignite a fire of desire, would remind me
I’m more than a wife and mother
But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe
someone would finally love me
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poetry: home
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
home is where poetry is
where I’m inspired
Where I live life on my own terms
without concern or worry
about whether or not
I’m not enough or too much
Life on the BPD 