I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
All of the ingredients for a long term love and I fawn
I don’t think I’ve ever here before you
you shower me with consistency, desire, attention and respect
you actually care about how I’ve slept
you know how to reassure me repeatedly
I’m worthy enough to be loved
and all of my past romantic tragic comedies
were a all practice and experience for you
a real sanctuary to lay me love in
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
it’s almost halloween and almost a year since I lost contact with you
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
Laufey’s too little, too late plays on repeat
A sense of guilt hits me wondering what we could have been
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
my boyfriend told me I’m wife material
I’ve resigned myself to the fact there never will be an us
Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
Time and luck never was on our side
No matter how hard both of us tried
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in 1821, my homeland gained independence from the Spanish crown
who subjugated my people to their whims of supremacy and colonizing ways
200 years later,they celebrated their independence
while, I, their daughter gained my independence from society’s chains
wrapped up in patriarchal and sexist good intentions
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
the sunflower longs for the warmth of summer
where it feels loved and comfort-
but summer has to end every year and fall comes in to kill her
and she dies every autumn waiting for almost a year to be reborn
I wrote this poem in 2019 when I got into a fight with a friend because he was cruel to one of my friends. After this fight, we didn’t talk for 2 years but we ended up reconnecting in the summer of this year.
“Control myself”, he said as I called out his misogyny
his fragile ego couldn’t handle hard truths thrown at him
he thinks that he has a license to offend
because of the organ between his legs and the pale color of his skin-
He thinks that I’m wrong for not sitting still and silent
He thinks that I have no right to stand up for myself
“Control myself”, he said to and “fuck off” I replied to him
you won’t ever be able to control a woman like me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
the sun sets and the sky turns pink
and you take my hand and tell me
I’m all you’ve ever wanted
And I’m overwhelmed by your grand gesture
of love and have the urge to walk away
but instead I stay
thinking maybe this time it will different
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
once again the united states of white supremacy throws another wrench at my community
making it more of a crime to exist as we are
trying to erase our culture, trying to shame us for our heritage
trying to force us into assimilation by any means possible
trying to target us for simply not fitting into their idea of what America
should look and sound like
and I stand up in defiance and say, a mi me vale madre pendejos
estoy que desde 1986, sembrando raíces en California, Hawaii y Georgia
y me quedaré aquí como su peor pesadilla
una mujer latina, criada y educada en este país
que no se dejara llevar por la marginación y racismo constante
de esta administración
y que luchará hasta el último respiro por quedarse aquí
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
gratitude taste like mami’s sopa de pollo
gratitude smells like my lover’s cologne
gratitude feels like a warm hug from my son
gratitude sounds like my sister’s car in my driveway
gratitude looks like me looking at the Goddess in the mirror
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
I longed and longed and longed to feel whole
until I planted my feet on the soil I was born on
until I breathed the air my parents and ancestors inhaled
until I tasted flavors from almost a lifetime ago
I longed and longed and longed to feel whole
until I returned to my homeland
and it was the piece of the puzzle found
I needed to finally complete me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Lukewarm response as I suggest coming to see you
and my gut tells me something is amiss
telling me you miss me
but dodge an opportunity to see me
Can’t say why or make plans to see me
and I change my relationship status to single
confused, frustrated
not understanding how I got here
almost begging another man for crumbs
of affection for the bare minimum
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
the gaslighting, the love bombing, the disappearing
weren’t the worst of your crimes
but together they added up to a mountain of trauma
It was the mt.everest of traumatic experiences
constantly making me wonder about the karmic debt
I was paying
making me wonder why I kept you in my life
allowed you to take up space in my mind and poems
sometimes I think I kept you solely for the fountain
of inspiration you drew out of me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
I’m an expert at navigating the gray and vague trying to romanticize
and make fires out of the smallest of sparks
deluding myself into thinking if I stick around long enough
He’ll realize I’m the one
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
karma bit me and now I’m paying for all of my emotional crimes
now I’m met with silence and indifference
and I go and examine what was the final straw
which post led you over the ledge
from friendship to being acquaintances once again
I wrote this in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way that they almost always seem to just want the fun and sexy part of me but seem to often have problems seeing the rest of me. I’ve almost always felt like I’ve been good enough to be their lover but never good enough to be introduced to their mother. Do I still feel this way? I honestly don’t know. I like the attention and validation I get from men because of my looks but sometimes it feels so hollow. **This poem went through heavy edits in June of 2026.
Tell me I’m beautiful, tell me I’m sexy
Objectify me, sleep with me
breadcrumb me, ghost me,
then try to come back to me
And when I deny you
insult me, threaten me,try your best to hurt me-
Your words mean nothing to me
You’re not the first but will be the last
who tries to destroy me
You’re not the first but will be the last
who treats me like your on call whore
You’re not the first but will be the last
who tells me I’m not good enough
and after all that, try to come back again
and
Tell me you miss, tell me you want me
Tell me you’re sorry, tell me you LOVE ME
Be persistent in your quest in trying to bed me with empty promises
about how this time it will be different
and how we have history
so I can laugh and laugh and turn you down
and watch you sulk
honey, I know you watch me on social media
so you should know better than to ever come back to me
I wrote this in September of 2019 after I read somewhere about some politician making fun of AOC for doing the “Latina Thing”. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
Edit: I revised this poem heavily in 2025 when I performed it in open mic. Here’s a link to that performance
make fun of our accents,make fun of our names-
call us feisty, caliente, spicy. too loud, too sexy
try to bully us into silence
try to put us down with racist and ignorant insults
try to stereotype us-
try to make us feel less than
try to kill us-
but understand that we’re here to stay,
and we’re not letting anyone get in our way
don’t you know that we’re descendents
of Mayan, Aztec, and Incan Kings and Queens
and survival and resilience is embedded in our DNA
y estamos aquí para quedarnos para siempre
