I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
on days like today when the world hurts
and i can’t stop doom scrolling reminding me
that everything is burning
I put down my phone, pause and breathe
and ground myself in my friendships
which are a reminder of love to me
which are a reminder that no matter what happens
in this world, I have people to hold space for me
which are a reminder of hope
and because of that
I can keep on going
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I had fallen in love with brown and hazel eyes
Before the disaster with blue eyes walked into my life
Those blue eyes would make me believe in love again
Those blue eyes would be the first to make me want to die of shame and guilt
and cause more trauma than he ever intended
Then again, I was only twenty
and there were a dozen years between us
he should have known better than to fuck
with a girl who was barely a woman
but carnal desire ruled both him and I
And we were tricked thinking it was love
but we were completely wrong
and he got to walk away without any consequences
While I was slut shamed and had to endure the trauma
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
The way my body feels as my legs take flight brings freedom to my soul
It brings me a sense of amazement thinking of how
I went from couch potato to a woman who needs a run in the sun
to feel grounded, to feel sane
I wrote this poem in October of 2021.
The rain falls steadily in Autumn
and I remember the 9 days in the summer
When the tears wouldn’t quit raining from my eyes
The eternal emotional pain wouldn’t stop
the lonely nights I couldn’t sleep
the infinite anger and sadness that I felt
the emptiness that wouldn’t
go away
the food I couldn’t eat.
And yet I still woke up
every day with a determination to live
live for my kids
live for my friends
live for myself
even at my worst,
even at my most vulnerable
Somehow, I managed
managed to find strength
managed to find inspiration
and somehow managed to
find my way back to myself
Summer was the season
I died when I was
rejected by the one who
claimed to love me
Autumn is the season I was reborn
and I fell back in love
with myself, forgot him
and fell into the magic
that is me
I wrote this poem in October of 2020.
The stillness in my life makes me insane
I’m craving an adventure
I’m craving ecstasy
I’m craving the unpredictable
To lie in the stillness feels like dying
and I want to live
Live life spontaneously,live life musically
Live a life full of excitement
To live in this stillness makes me feel like
I’m drowning in a lake of stagnation
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
beneath the fog, I almost crashed my car
I wasn’t drunk, just under the influence of seroquel
and crazy from the euphoria
just experienced in the arms of my ex lover
Beneath the fog, I almost crashed my car
but I used all of my DBT skills to calm down
and manage to park my car at a gas station
To gain my composure
and suddenly Kid LAROI is blasting
from some zoomer’s truck
with a message for me from the universe
that I’d be alright despite
life’s almost disasters
and that the sexual creature I’ve held with
for most than two years
is alive and well
and ready to make up for lost time
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
there’s a love poem for me being written somewhere in the universe
and it will appear in the most unexpected way
it won’t be something forced, it won’t be something illicit or immoral
it will fit perfectly into my chaotic world of community and poetry
and while this man is bound to get on my nerves (like they all do)
He’ll be strong enough to withstand my nonsense and mood swings
He’ll be the lover daydream I’ve been waiting for since I was 15
and my kids with watch us and say “ew, cringe”
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
the sound of my love will not come with “I love yous”
or cute little texts with heart emojis
the sound of my love comes in loud waves of poetry
in the playlists I make dominated by Taylor Swift
and Conan Gray
the sound of my love is a lightning bolt
that will not be ignored
it’s me telling the audience
I hate being vulnerable but I cannot quell
the romantic girl in me
when she feels something and then reading
a love poem she wrote
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
The moon guards and protects me as I lose my sanity
as I drink too much
as I search for someone’s touch
the moon sends the Goddess
with a message of awareness
and I wake up from my trance of self destruction
and start an inner healing revolution
my purpose was never to be diminished and objectified
it was my judgment gone awry
and I try respect and worth on for size
my beauty is not all there is to me
I’m a mosaic of intelligence, love, and creativity
never a barbie to be treated as a reward or trophy
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
this time it hits too close to home
this time it feels like a matter of when
in America my children learn run, duck, and cover
before learning to spell the word “Gun”
but this is the deck of cards dealt to all of parents
living in America
safety in schools is an illusion long gone
since the days of Columbine
but with each massacre we all break a little more
and our anxiety skyrockets even more
the closer this epidemic gets to us
this time I’ll hug my teenager as tightly as possible
when he gets home, even as he rolls his eyes at me
and says, “ew”this time I allow my fury and rage
at this continued senseless violence to pour out of me
and on paper
collective and personal grief covers me
accepting once again, no matter what I do
or how hard I try or how much I love my child
I can’t shelter him, I can’t protect him
from the epidemic of violence in this country
people wonder how I do it all
two jobs, three kids, the stream of poetry
and still finding time for friends
and honestly sometimes i don’t know
perhaps its because i’m crazy
and have the determination to live
to live the fullest life I have
even within the limits I have
maybe I don’t to waste a single minute
of regret wishing I could have done that
or this like I used to and now just do
I’m no longer a woman of mere words
I’m a woman of actions
8/28/23
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
pieces of my abuela bleed into my mami which bleeds into me
and I’m the vessel of the generational trauma inherited
and given the role of cycle breaker
I go against societal norms and conventions
and I’m always the odd one out
always the one who never belongs, who never fits in
until I find sanctuary in poetry, friendships,
and my own creative community
and while the trauma inherited still lives in me
I find a purpose for it as i share abuela’s, mami’s, and my stories
through poetry and slowly those generational wounds
start to heal and turn into scars
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
Mae West and Liz Taylor knew how to take up space in a man’s world
and that was the problem with them
it intimidated the fuck out of the men who worked with them,
who loved them
so they were ostracized, made to be cautionary tales
the minute they got out of line
so much beauty partnered with intelligence
made them a target in a patriarchal society
that like their women cute and mute
like the marionettes they can pull strings on
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
jem, brenda walsh, peg bundy, and many more empowered women
made their way to my tv screen in the 80s
when I was an immigrant child living in poverty
these characters helped me understand women are complex
and not the meek and submissive beings
my culture and religion led me to believe
these characters made a strong impression on me as a young girl
I didn’t have to live the story of the mujer sufrida
or saintly martyr
I could just be me and that would be enough
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestors
i’ll build a shrine with their pictures and letters to honor them
it’s the least I can do do the generational gifts passed down to me
this day of the dead, I’ll pay reverence to my female ancestor
write down their stories and later on share them
remember that doing this heals something in me,
something in them
Life on the BPD 