I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
mami dressed me up in ruffles and pastels whenever she could
I’d swirled and twirled in my dress until I got dizzy
loved when everyone told me, “ay que bonita te miras”
and I awkwardly bowed, smiled, and hid
sashayed to every single one of my relatives
and did the same thing
it’s one of the few times I remembered being vain as a child
one of the few times I didn’t feel weird and like an outcast
external validation learned at the tender age of 8
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
for almost three years I’ve been waiting for the next guy to appear
as some kind of hero, as some kind of reward for all of my effort
I’ve put into myself and the life I’ve built
Subconsciously I did this
Even as I publicly roared about being empowered on my own
I still wanted someone to be my sanctuary to lay my love in
And I wrote, manifested, schemed, flirted
got obsessed with men were just meant to be friends
Thinking, gosh, if I hang on long enough, he’ll come around
this might work out
but today I discovered the only hero for me
is the woman in the mirror
who still manages to get out of bed
even on the bad days when she’s too tired to function
when she’s exhausted by all of it
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
last time I had my last first kiss
it was wasted on a middle age scorpio
I wore a cute summer dress with red lipstick
along with my feminine charm
I didn’t have to lay it on thick for him to desire me
for him to want to kiss me
he would’ve fuck me I hadn’t been on my period
his hands roamed almost every inch of my body
as if it belong to him for the 5 minutes we made out
while I dissociated and pretended I was somewhere else
I was numb and devoid of feeling anything
Am I even a person?
He said things about how I was so hot and sexy
and how sad it was that couldn’t screw me
And I laughed flirtatiously following the script
I’ve had since I could remember
and I felt no desire or any pleasure
if anything I was repulsed
by him, by myself
hating how even at 40,
I was still pulling the same bullshit since I was 16
making myself an object of desire for me to play with
and then something snapped in me that day
a couple of hours after that date
I sent him a snap along with all the other 7 dudes
I was entertaining and keeping as options
the same message,
“I’m sorry, I’m not in a place to date or even
to have men as friends, I wish you the best”
it was hard as I had always been addicted
to men’s attention and validation
but something told me it was time
to switch the narrative
even though I knew it would be lonely
Happy World Poetry day! Lately, I’ve been reflecting a lot about how my relationship with poetry has changed the past few years. I’ve always said poetry-reading and writing it has been a type of therapy for me. And while, this is still true, this relationship has evolved in me finding community with other poets online and in real life. I’m actually really lucky that I’m able to call a few of them my friends. This community has also helped me become a better poet in many ways. With all that being said, I wanted to share a few poems I’ve written about this community and how it’s impacted me.
tonight
we gather here tonight
to share the most vulnerable parts of ourselves
through poems written on a whim, in cars,
inspired by dreams and tragedies
and everything in between
some of it will be meaningful
some of it will be nonsense
most of the time, it will be someone
trying to make sense of the world
with a few phrases and sentences
clumsily strung together
and calling it poetry
1/2/24
finding community in athens
when I finally took myself seriously as a poet and writer, I was 40
before that I thought I was some cute and crazy girl
who used poetry and stories to express on paper
whatever she couldn’t burden loved ones with
but now at 40, between the july heat and mental health diagnosis
I had a nervous breakdown
and I used my creativity to get through it
so I started blogging and used my poetry as content
I had no idea anyone would like it, resonate with it
and subscribe to it
and after a year, I went back to open mic
and keep going and bared my most vulnerable
and intimate thoughts
this lead to me finding community with the local
poets of Athens
and it’s what I had always wanted but was always
too scared, too insecure to seek out
and also too busy with everything else in my life
but one day I got tired and finally embraced the fire
of my creativity
and decided to share the artist in me with the world
once I did that, I created a community
and eventually found a community of writers and poets
who accept me, encourage me, and inspire me
2/20/24
safe harbor
I landed in my safe harbor after I almost drowned
and I’m greeted by strangers who welcome
me with open arms
they don’t turn away or tell me I’m too much
when I tell them my lore of trauma through poetry
they applaud me, they accept me,
they encourage me
they’re the sanctuary I’ve been searching for
since I can remember
these strangers who call themselves poets
have now become my chosen family
I wrote this poem in the fall of 2007 when I was depressed.
Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I hate it when I catch myself being unintentionally sweet
It makes me feel vulnerable and weak
It’s almost as if my armor of empowered Queen
is breaking and I can’t allow that to happen
I’ve come too far in my heroine’s journey
to allow romantic daydreams
to disrupt it
And I’m tempted to erase his messages
And block him
It’s not his fault or mine
It’s the faulty wiring in my brain
it causes the logic in me to short circuit
every time I talk to him
this poem is inspired by the 2007 “veins”:
scared and desperate, I cling onto you
I learned early, solitude is a curse
and being alone is the worst thing
that can happen to a woman
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
lately I take the biggest bites out of life and flaunt it
in front of everyone
for too long I suppressed my hunger for experience,
for adventure
thought I was crazy for trying to explore my curious nature
So instead I took small bites here and there
thinking it be enough
but it wasn’t who I was
a little bird taking nips
naw I’m a condor reading to pounce and satiate my hunger
my big ass appetite
ready to be satisfied
with the unpleasant and pleasurable things in life
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
man sets himself on fire for gaza
woman murdered just for existing
babies starved to death for being born Palestinian
young adult dies at dorm of the local university
collective grief rattles our communities
don’t know what to make of so much loss
happening within a matter of days
all we can do is hold on to each other
as senseless madness and violence takes place
all we can do is tell our stories
build our sanctuaries within each other
remind ourselves of our warmth, our humanity
when the world is heavy with cruelty and toxicity
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
before I knew who I was
I used to be oh so charming to men
always agreeing with them,
mirroring their interests,
stroking their egos and other things
and giving them easy access to me
I never used much discernment in this
my standard were 3000 leagues under the sea
So I allowed any mediocre joe who showed me
the least bit of attention into my universe
and I allowed this to happen for 26 years
making myself fodder for these mediocre and insecure joes
who left the minute I show then a bit of the fire I held within
and everytime they left, I was destroyed
and like a tarot’s fool I keep repeating this nonsense
until a few years ago, I had enough
when the last of the joes
said I was too much for him
and it was the final straw
that broke my romantic girl spirit
for a while I was touch and go with my sanity
but I rose and rose like the Peruvian diosa I had always been
and in horror I realized laying in bed with mediocrity
only damaged me, it was time to change this narrative
and slowly I recovered from the latest love tragedy
and starting writing my own love story
one where alone I’m enough and the protagonist
and never again have to tone down who I am
or hide the fire and magic that resides in me
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
while I’ve been obsessed with everything that has gone wrong with my life
I’m learning to finally acknowledge everything that went right
always been blessed to have a community of friends
who loved and accept me as the crazy and creative mess that I have always been
for that I am most grateful to the universe
the ultimate gift of friendship
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
we gather here tonight
to share the most vulnerable parts of ourselves
through poems written on a whim, in cars,
inspired by dreams and tragedies
and everything in between
some of it will be meaningful
some of it will be nonsense
most of the time, it will be someone
trying to make sense of the world
with a few phrases and sentences
clumsily strung together
and calling it poetry
this is inspired by the 2006 poem, “did I ask for your advice”
well meaning unsolicited advice and opinions from others
Made me feel like I was a failure
like I wasn’t doing enough to better myself
it always comes after a life changing event-
a new baby, marriage, and most recently my divorce
In my 20s it drove me crazy
In my 40s I nod, smile, take whatever is helpful
and move on
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
My body slowly starts to rebel against the daily stress
I put on it
It says, “stop this nonsense, you’re trying to do too much constantly.
hardly stopping to catch your breath
Constantly moving with a fast pace, tying up your worth
with how productive you can be
when just breathing, just existing is enough”
Life on the BPD 