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poetry: is this it?

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

me manifesting hard for this moment

found love where I least expected it
and when it happened
it felt like an earthquake where the ground
broke from under me
it felt like all of the hurt and pain experienced
before had been worth it
for the one waiting in the wings for me
as he sits by me and reassures me
when the world feels chaotic and overwhelming
He tells me I’m one of the best things
that happened to him
and has never made me feel less
or like a burden to him
and all of it still feels so strange to me
is this really happening to me?
or is it all a dream?
and I finally at the end of my marathon of lust and love
I have been running since the age of 15

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Poetry: Petty Pouts

I wrote this in December of 2021.

and sometimes I’m tired of dancing….lol

I want to find my way to forgiveness
instead I’m covered in hate
I want to find my way to kindness
instead of being stuck in this
cage of anger and rage
I want true radical acceptance
instead of being a victim to my
black and white thinking
I want to be full of Zen
Instead of being full of insecurity
I want a stable sense of identity
instead of this constant confusion about who I am
I want to write about happiness and joy
instead of filling up my pages with petty pouts

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poetry: unhinged

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

I’m someone’s present

on hinge, I became unhinged
some man child told me
I should thank him for expressing
his desire to fuck me
within 5 minutes of talking to him
I wanted to obliterate him completely
cuss him out for how disrespectful he was being
but instead bowed out gracefully
told him, “naw, I’m made for victorian courtship”
he thought I was strange for wanting something
with more substance than casual sex
with a guy from a dating app
told me, “good luck with your AI boyfriend”
and the interaction leaves me sour once again
wondering if I was born in the wrong era
if I’m asking for too much in asking to be
respected and seen as a real person
instead as a temporary toy for men
to play with

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poetry: left behind

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

I used to find it romantic and endearing how in Hollywood stories
the protagonists triumphs over insurmountable obstacles
to find their happy endings
until I notice there’s always a third party who’s left behind
a third party who’s expendable and the cost
of the happy ending the protagonist are granted
it makes me wretched with empathy and feel grief for them
because too often, I’ve known what it’s like to be left
for someone prettier, shinier, easier, MORE EXCITING
and I wonder if it’s time to write stories about them
the third parties left behind who didn’t make the cut
in their lover’s love story

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poetry: storni

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and it was what my spirit needed to be resuscitated
into feeling something
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and I couldn’t wait to show mami
she dedicated Hombre Pequeñito to Papi
and we laugh at his expense for a minute
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and I watched her 1957 bio pic with mami
we stood in awe at how progressive it was for its time
but at the same time understood how much progress
still needed to be made for woman kind

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poetry: false start

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

You were one of my false starts this year
it wasn’t your fault though
I tend to get stars in my eyes
over any man who gives me attention,
And is equally emotionally unavailable

It’s a lethal combination for me
And even if I know better,
I always fall for it
except this time
I fell harder than usual
because you’re also a man
who calls me out on my bullshit

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poetry: damaged

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

your boundaries are clear as spring water
I heard them between the gaps of silence
in our texts
you don’t want to encourage any attention from me
or send mixed messages
so instead, you don’t answer or initiate any conversations
and I don’t blame you for this-
After all, I am batshit crazy, I wouldn’t date me either
so I will no longer bother you
I’ll leave you alone
respect the professional boundaries and walls
you have erected
Take this as another sign from the universe
I’m still too damaged for another chance at love

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poetry: new muse

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

not sure when a new muse will appear
I just gave up on my most recent one
I can take a hint
he’s not interested
he’s scared because I’m too crazy
and will fuck up his life
and maybe he’s right
maybe I’m not healed enough,
not intelligent enough
maybe for him I’m just not enough
and this doesn’t make me angry
I’m in the acceptance phase
I’ll no longer bother him
I’ll just let him be
I’ll just wait for a new muse to appear
out of nowhere from my dreams
into my real life
my manifestation game is strong
though sometimes my aim is off

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poetry: mediocre

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

this really is me

Sometimes I miss our rollercoaster of toxicity
even when you came back to me sober
you still managed to emotionally dysregulate me
and destroy me
and while I’ve tried to find a replacement for you
no one holds a candle to you
no one brings me the level of excitement you once did
everyone feels meh and blah
compared to you, everyone is mediocre

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poetry: shipwrecks

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

Like shipwrecks in a cavern, somehow we came together
putting bandaids of lust to sooth and cover our loneliness
causing chaos and rejecting each other
only to always come back to each other
and it was entertaining for a while
until we both realized it was a waste of time and energy
and fled to different caverns

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poetry: serendipity

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

a moment of serendipity happened when we ran into each other
Christmas shopping
You struck up a conversation and helped me with my bags
and I told you about my plans for higher education
and you said you wanted to help me and got my phone number
we didn’t know at the time, one day we’d form a family
get married and divorced within a span of twenty years
isn’t life, so, so crazy?
How ten minutes of conversation ended up leading to the beginning
of one of my most important stories?

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poesía: condesita

escribí este poema en diciembre del 2024.

me at age 9

magneto y locomía sale de la tele
mi tío me llamaba su condesita y mi tía me llamaba linda
y me río porque últimamente me siento como una extraña en mi cuerpo
y mami y sus hermanas me dicen que me estoy volviendo una señorita
pero lo único que veo es un monstruo fea y gorda en el espejo
y quisiera ser delgadita y fina como mis primas
pero por lo menos mi tío y mi tía no me miran así
me miran como un tesoro bello y valioso

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poetry: 8 years ago

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

I am a miracle

8 years ago, I didn’t want to be here and took 15 sleeping pills
one for every miserable year I found myself stuck in a story
that filled me with misery
8 years ago, I didn’t want to be here and tried to disappear
by any means necessary
my demons and inner critic were getting to me
and I couldn’t find my way out of the abyss I had fallen in
and thought it be easier to cease to exist
8 years I didn’t want to be here and felt so weak
I didn’t think I could make it
but 8 years later, I’m still here and even though
it’s kind of a shitty day with so many things looming over me
and my hormones and emotions are getting the better of me
making me borderline psychotic
I am still glad I EXIST
I’m grateful I’ve lived to see mine and my son’s many milestones
I’m grateful for the person I am now who always triumphs
over each catastrophe and tragedy
and everything experienced between the extreme highs and lows
of life
I’m filled with love and compassion and with a hidden excitement
for what’s to come
I’m filled with awe and wonder for the miracle that is me

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poetry: the muse

I wrote this poem in December of 2020.

The words, the phrases, the sentences seep from me
when I think of you, my muse

Words of hate, words of love,
Words of devastation, words of lust

You inspire everything that is great,
You inspire everything that I hate

Spilled phrases about my desire for you
and my disgust for you fills pages of my journal

I hate him, I love him, I can’t live without him
Phrases that bleed from my our toxic love af

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poetry: tomorrow

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

happy Heather Day

radical self compassion and grace falls from my life
as thoughts of crashing my car unintentionally come to the surface of my mind
but this happens every year in early december
the old me from 2016 still wants to be heard and seen
the trauma from her is visiting me mixed with winter and PMDD
and lack of sleep makes me feel incompetent and unworthy of existing
but I resist and resist thoughts of self harm and despair
there is still too much life left in me and besides it’s one bad day out of many
Tomorrow, tomorrow, is another day, another sunrise, another sunset
another brand new beginning