poetry: cesspool

I wrote this poem in March of 2019.

Feeling hopeless in a cesspool of a world
That will never accept you
-for your skin color
-for your accent
-for your nationality
-for your religion or lack of one
-for your independent thought
Anything that doesn’t fit the image
of white and Christian is blasphemous
To be an “other” is to carry the weight of racism,
discrimination, xenophobia
All the phobias on your already burdened shoulders
So they try to kill us with actual guns Or
metaphorical ones of insults,rejections or looks of disgust.

poetry: soldier

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I’m soldier of love
too lost battles for me to count and recount
how many times I’ve had to stitch my heart over and over again
from the many knives past lovers have stabbed me with
with the last one, I almost lost all hope for love
It made me lose my sanity and almost gave me PTSD
Still the romantic in me refused to die
and resurfaced this year
Told me, “this time it will be different, this time you have self respect
and you’ll be choosy over who’s worthy of your love energy”

poetry: second chance

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

raindrops serendipiciously hit the window panes of our room
and the wind sings a song everyone can hear
I lay on your chest in our bed in awe of what just happened
caught lovestruck with a smile of love
thankful for this second chance at marriage
for so long I thought I was doomed to be alone
never expected to find you
especially the way you showed up in my life
and now there isn’t a space between us
and you look at me with goofy smile of yours
the one that inspires the poet in me and say
“we need to make up for lost time”

poetry: you’re so mature for your age

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

wish I knew this at 19

Y’all should have known better than to fuck with me
trying me on while I was still finding my footing as a woman
to lust after me because of my curves and pretty face
Never thinking my brain was still developing
Never weighing the consequences of how your selfish ways
would hurt me
Instead I was just fodder for your game of lust-
and you became inspiration for stories and poems about trauma
I still wonder who I would turned out to be-
if only you two would have left me alone

poetry: between

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

me at open mic in February

between heartbeats and honeysuckle, they fell in love
this time, it was different for both of them
this time it didn’t take much to see that both of them
Wanted to exchange I dos
this time they believed in forever and happily ever after

poetry: special

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

me on my birthday

With a fiery madness, she survived and made it out alive
tragedy after tragedy, diagnosis after diagnosis
she questioned how or why she did it
Many stood astonished at how she kept herself together
and composed even as her life and her body fell apart
but after a while it was easy for her to triumph
after every devastating plot twist
she was something else
a mixture of manic pixie girl and goddess
she was special

poetry: dangerous

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

this is a dangerous road I’m traveling on
smiling at your messages
Creating a playlist inspired by you
romanticizing every interaction we have
liking every single one of your posts
Wondering if you’re safe enough
To get to know you
beyond the walls of this simple friendship

poetry: pleas

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

my pleas for love fall on the deaf ears of the universe
I scoff and get angry with her
Wondering what’s left to heal
what’s left for closure
what’s wrong with me that I need to fix in order
to attract someone to love for the crazy, creative
and complex woman that I am

poetry: help her

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

her help with her hair

help her find hope after becoming the worst version of herself
after getting herself entangled with men who did nothing
but hurt her

help her find grace after the fall from the altar of love
men placed her on and she turned into a monster
who resembled medusa

help her find a path to enlightenment and purpose
after she once again drowns in waves
nostalgia and grief over what could have been

poetry: one day

I wrote this poem of February of 2025.

dreaming my future love into existence

one day I’ll meet a man who won’t be afraid to take my hand
and declare his love for me in public

one day I’ll meet a man who won’t have eyes for another body
other than mine

One day I’ll meet a man whose values aligns with mine

One day I’ll meet a man who’s always looking for ways
to evolve and better himself

One day I’ll meet a man who won’t run away from his emotions
and confront them head on even when it hurts

one day I’ll meet a man who’ll want to make me his
for the rest of his life without blinking an eye

and say I’m one the best things that’s ever happened to him

poetry: all worth it

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

I’d never say I lost time with any of my love stories-
they all taught me something about myself
They all inspired me to write poetry
and two of them help me create my three kings
even if some of my love stories left me decimated
and almost destroyed me
they were all worthy for the love I felt
the growth and progress I had

poetry:next valentine’s day

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

tried to manifest a Luigi this time last year

next valentine’s day I want to be calm especially if I’m still alone
I want my nervous system to be ultra regulated and not the mess
it currently is

next valentine’s day I don’t want to entertain vengeful fantasies
of getting my baseball bat to scare couples in the middle
of their romantic dinner

Next valentine’s day I don’t to keep playing the role of bitter,jaded,
and lonely bitch who allows herself to become a wreck
at the mere mention of romantic love

Next valentine’s day I’m rewriting the script of grief stricken lonely girl
and will make it a day that will reflect on all of the love I have in my life