I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
the empty wineglass sits at the edge of the coffee table
after I’ve written another poem about you
it needs to be refilled so my mind gets tired
of being inspired by the memory of you
poetry: refill
poetry: one day
I wrote this poem of February of 2025.
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
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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
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poetry:next valentine’s day
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.
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
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poetry: looking
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’m looking for the rhythm of a new heartbeat to fall in love with
A heartbeat that goes with the flow of my intense intimacy
A heartbeat who doesn’t call me angel or princess
only calls me by my name
a heartbeat who’ll fall in love with the real me
and not the idea they have of me
or the persona I play on social media
A heartbeat who can handle my crazy and chaos
A heartbeat who accepts and understands me
and never tries to change me
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poetry: dystopian clusterfuck
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.
me and my family have immigration jokes for day on end
and some of my friends think that’s sick and awful
but its one of the only things
that helps me and my family keep our sanity
in Trump’s American is making fun of our misery and misfortune
it’s how we’ve survived generations of corrupt governments
and wannabe dictators
its how we’ve passed resilience and strength to future generations
sure, we may cry at first as the life we’ve worked hard for
starts falling apart and our plans for the future are shattered
because of a few megarich and corrupt maga idiots
who run our government
but right after we wipe our tears and break out in jokes
and laughter
especially now that what’s supposed to be the land of the free
gets more and more fascist
and we swim closer and closer to nazi waters
the only thing we can do is try to find a way to smile, to laugh,
to find a bit of joy no matter how fucked up in may seem
in this dystopian clusterfuck
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poetry: next time
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
next time, next time, next time
I won’t live in the should haves,
could haves, would haves
next time, next time, next time
I’ll live in my present
and not in my past or future
next time, next time, next time
I won’t feel useless, worthless
or like I’m not enough
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poetry: the fairy tale died that day
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m pregnant, it’s yours, I want to keep it
I start crying
“Just get rid of it you tell me
he fairytale died that day
I’m at your apartment drunk
And you;re drunk, we fight, then we kiss
And you take me in-but then you feel guilt
And kick me out I
The fairytale died that day
I’m at your apartment
I want to hold you and kiss you
I yearn for you
You imply I can’t be trusted
The fairytale died that day
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poetry: don’t fall in love with me
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
Don’t fall in love with me he said to me
right after he got off from me
he wanted to make sure I didn’t get the wrong idea
So he dotted his I’s and T’s of casual fucking
And I didn’t go into a love hysteria
But it was already too late
My intense emotions couldn’t wait
“I love him, he’s my love king”
I was already thinking
the truth is
No one can control a borderline’s mind
And it’s not his fault of mine
that I catch feelings easily
even when you use me sexually
It won’t matter what you say
My mind won’t be swayed
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poetry: so resilient
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.
Diseased hip evicted, shiny aluminum to replace it
6 inch scar needed to better my life
80 minutes of the Drs doing their magic
Cutting into me and making me whole
a recovery period of 6 weeks or so they say
third time trying to fix my hip
hopefully the third time is a charm
all of this just for being born broken,
Damaged and different
everyone admires my strength and resilience
and all I dream about is one day not being defined
by everything I’ve had to overcome,
of ne day not being called resilient
and being seen as more than the turmoil
I’ve had to endure and over come
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poetry: winds of defiance
I wrote this in February of 2021.
The winds of defiance rules my heart
I love someone I shouldn’t
Who stirs up hate and love
within me
I feel underwhelmed
by everything wonderful
in my life
The winds of defiance rule my heart
And I shouldn’t want to run
from my beautiful lover
and yet I want to
And I desire danger and intensity
even if what I really need
is peace and calm
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poetry: sunshine
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
wrap me up in your sunshine
and allow me to feel your warmth
melt down my frigid walls
with your fire
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poetry: nobody knew
I wrote this poem in January of 2022.
Nobody knew about our sexcapade
You were a temporary escape
From the emptiness and loneliness
I felt in my suburban adolescence
Nobody knew about me and you
Until I could no longer hide
the living creature inside
Nobody knew about me and you
Until my belly grew and grew
And half of it was you
Nobody knew about our short fling
Until one day I had to sing
I’m pregnant with a stranger’s baby
No,he’ll never be the one or even a maybe
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poetry: no longer
I wrote this poem in January of 2025.
I no longer believe in forevers
or happily ever afters
too many times I’ve been
let down by love
too many times love has
run through my hands
like water
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poesía: mi soledad
escribí este poema en enero del 2022.
Mi soledad me enferma
por quererte mas y mas
aunque tu ya no me amas
aunque ya no me tocas
aunque me niegas tus caricias
Y tus palabras de amor
no tienen calor
Mi soledad me mata
Y quiero gritar
Por que te fuistes de mi vida
Y que fuistes mi siempre, y no un quizás
Y ahora eres un a jamás
Mi soledad me dice
Fuiste otra lección que aprender
En este estúpido juego de amor
Llena de nuevo con una sabor amargo
Life on the BPD 