escribí este poema en junio del 2022.
Después de ti, llego mi libertad
porque me liberé de mi propio juzgamiento
porque me libere de pensar que solo podía
encontrar el amor en los brazos de un hombre
porque me libere de ser una princesa sumisa
que daria todo por tenerte a ti
y ahora que tengo mi libertad
por fin tengo mi felicidad
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
not feeling romantic lately as my community is torn apart
and cruelty is served to them by this administration with no end date
as I watch America’s Gestapo treat my people as worse than animals
but somehow I’m suppose to block this all out
and reply to your sext about all the ways I want you
to ravage me
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
put me on a pedestal and watch how quickly I fall
for saying no to you
For standing up for myself
for making myself heard
You’ll cry foul and wonder, where did my dream girl go?
but don’t you see-
I wasn’t made for altars and pedestals
I was made for thrones
A throne where I know my worth
A throne where I’m valued
A throne where I’m appreciated as a whole person
and not just seen as an object as affection and masturbation
So quit seeing me as a saint or angel
and understand I’m a chaotic queen
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
consent is honesty and respect
it doesn’t matter how many time I’ve kissed you
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve slept with you
Always ask me if I’m okay with whatever you wanna do
Instead of pressuring me, instead of harassing me
with your supposed admiration for me
with your stupid pet names for me
I’m not dear, hottie, beautiful, girl or princess
Call me by my god given name
and maybe then I would take you seriously
instead of ignoring you, pretending you’re a mosquito
Impossible to get rid off
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
I try to banish the clouds of doubts and insecurities in me
everytime I’m in love, I get like this
everytime I start to feel comfortable in a new sanctuary
I start to question
if i’m worthy, if i’m deserving
is it possible that really, I’m the problem
and the one who sabotages everything
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Cover me with a blanket of lies and tell me you love me
tell me I’m the only one for you
and false promises about you’ll never leave
and how you’re not like the other guys
Love me at your convenience, love me when I’m easy
I’ll believe the fantasy and play my role
of the perfect and polite princess
until one day, I grow out of my role and explode
and I’ll discover once again
you’re like everyone else
who can only stand me for a short while
and accuse me of being a crazy bitch and leave
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
putting in bold letters I support ICE in your facebook profile pic
I quickly unfriended yours and your husband’s joint facebook account
the one created after he stepped out on you
and karma was served to you for being a homewrecker
several years ago
the one created to keep tabs on him so he wouldn’t do it again
and as I write this, I almost laugh hysterically
because of course it makes sense that you support Trump, ICE,
and everyone who wants to destroy and rips rights away from everyone
who’s not white and straight
After all, didn’t you yourself tear a family apart?
so it makes perfect sense
also I always wondered who the other woman was
from your hateful vitriol of immigrants and latinas
she must be one hell of a Latina who almost took your man
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’ll leave an emotional stain on your life that will be hard to get rid of
You’ll curse the day I was born
You’ll regret the day you ever meet me
because I demand respect, because I’ll never be your safe place
because I’ll say “no” to being relegated to the role of mistress
and you’ll accuse me of being crazy and narcissist
just because I wanted to be treated with dignity
just because I want to be seen as more than another girl to pass the time with
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
it’s not romance, it’s harassment
placing me on your dream girl altar
and telling me about your boner
Even after I told you no
But then you still threw me your delusional love
and when I was honest right away
and I told you “I’m sorry but no”
somehow now I’m a crazy bitch,
a stranger
who’s letting her mental illness talk for her
after calling out your misogynistic behavior
All I said was no to you and the insults come on cue
I warned you, didn’t I and now foul, you cry
I told you I wasn’t ready for what you had to offer
but you kept playing the part of my great admirer
and maybe I’m fucked up in the head
but your fantasies I needed to behead
I needed to keep myself safe from men like you
who try to bully me into loving them
into giving in because your endless attention
and compliments
haven’t you read my story?
I’m not no longer a woman who bends and bends
to man’s thirst for me
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’ve walked through the warzone of my love life long enough to know
when a bomb is about to explode (when I fall of some guy’s dream girl altar)
It’s a minefield full of suppressed feelings
consequences of accommodating to a man’s ego
And I’ll tread ever so carefully
I don’t want to be alone, I just want to be loved,
I’ll bend and bend until you call me Gumby
Except I’m not and then I’ll snap and another bomb will go off
“You’re crazy,” you’re dangerous” “ I don’t recognize you”
all for expressing my feelings and wanting respect and dignity
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
floating in a neon pink haze , the afterlife awaits
no more suffering, no more mental health crisis
no more dark doses of reality
this could be lovely and nice
but I’m pushed out by forces beyond my control
wake up in a fog
my soul’s purpose has not been fulfilled
I must continue telling my story
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
In therapy I’m supposed to write about the last thing that cause me grief
and I think it’s funny considering the tons of poetry and journal entries
I’ve written about it
I’m tired of writing about it, I’m tired of talking about it
I’m tired of thinking about it
and I want to tell my therapist I don’t have homework for this week
but this is part of therapy
this is what I need to address the unhealed trauma within
so I’ll write for the 1000th time about the last thing that caused trauma and grief
hoping my therapist will provide valuable insight on how to let go of it
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
charcoal lights up the grill, my son draws a silly drawing on the pavement
today the summer breeze hits as we drink and laugh about our past misadventures
about how dramatic I used to be
about how sensitive you once were
how everything is trauma deconstructed and put to rest
and only positive energy exchanged between us
Building each other up every step of our lives
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
temptation all around me to repeat the same unhealthy stories
to the sabotage the healthy energy in front of me
it would be so easy to do so
allow it all to combust in front of me
but I won’t
this time I’ll be different
this time I’ll do my best to make it work
this time he knew the poet in me before he met me
and I have no hidden corners of myself left
and with all that said
I know we have a chance of making it
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
Wish I could say I’m a chill and cool kind of girl when it comes to love
but I’m not
because once I’m into you and I let you in
it will be hard to get rid of me
because I am a nurturer and I’ll love you with my whole heart
and I’ll make you the center of my world and find ways for us to get closer
wait, wait, wait
this version of me no longer exist
she went up in flames a few years back
Nowadays, the slightest sirens go off in me and I want to run away and block him
Cease and desist any evidence of him, the slightest offence
and it takes everything out of me to remember my skills learned in therapy
Tell him, I need a bit of time to process and we’ll talk in the morning
I know that after a good night’s sleep, I’ll look at things differently
and won’t fuck up my new love story because of a single simple misunderstanding
Life on the BPD 