I wrote this poem in March of 2025.

try to keep my romantic spirit alive
with a swenting of a man who doesnβt exist
Yet
a man I will call my boyfriends y el amor de mi vida
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

we lie to ourselves continuously about our needs
to save face, to avoid conquering our fears
to not feel insecure
weβll tell ourselves we are better off alone and independent
when in reality as humans
we are meant to be social
we are meant to share ourselves with others
but itβs cooler to say, βIβm good with my solitude,
Iβm my own best friendβ
because deep down inside we donβt want to get hurt again
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

her warmth keeps me safe and loved
it protects me from the harshness of this world
I call her Mami
her strength inspires me to stand up for myself
it makes me want to become a better version of myself
I call her my sister
Her ability to be there for me keeps me from dying
It keeps from falling into a dark abyss
I call her my friend
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.

in total darkness I fell for a while
for a year I didnβt listen to music
For a year I donβt remember being a mom
and while I still function and went to work
Several years later
I realize how I had forgotten all about
the darkness I had fallen in a while ago
my mind blocked it in an attempt to move on
in an attempt to heal
I wrote this in March of 2022.

When I was little, I was often lost in daydreams
about America
It was beautiful and blue
I pictured a celestial and warm ocean
where the waves tenderly touch my toes
I was taught it was a better existence than
the one we were living in
but no one told me that dreams sometimes
donβt come true
and the reality of America was filled with a hardness
that even 35 years later Iβm still processing
indentured servitude, exploitation, depression,
addiction,racism, mental illness were just a few side effects
of going for the American dream
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

Iβm soldier of love
too lost battles for me to count and recount
how many times Iβve had to stitch my heart over and over again
from the many knives past lovers have stabbed me with
with the last one, I almost lost all hope for love
It made me lose my sanity and almost gave me PTSD
Still the romantic in me refused to die
and resurfaced this year
Told me, βthis time it will be different, this time you have self respect
and youβll be choosy over whoβs worthy of your love energyβ
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

raindrops serendipiciously hit the window panes of our room
and the wind sings a song everyone can hear
I lay on your chest in our bed in awe of what just happened
caught lovestruck with a smile of love
thankful for this second chance at marriage
for so long I thought I was doomed to be alone
never expected to find you
especially the way you showed up in my life
and now there isnβt a space between us
and you look at me with goofy smile of yours
the one that inspires the poet in me and say
βwe need to make up for lost timeβ
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

between heartbeats and honeysuckle, they fell in love
this time, it was different for both of them
this time it didnβt take much to see that both of them
Wanted to exchange I dos
this time they believed in forever and happily ever after
I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

With a fiery madness, she survived and made it out alive
tragedy after tragedy, diagnosis after diagnosis
she questioned how or why she did it
Many stood astonished at how she kept herself together
and composed even as her life and her body fell apart
but after a while it was easy for her to triumph
after every devastating plot twist
she was something else
a mixture of manic pixie girl and goddess
she was special