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.
random pic of me pissed in 2019
“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
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 in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way thatthey 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.
Often men want this girl…the ones that’s always down for a “good” timeBUT run away from this one….the other girl …the vulnerable one that has a realness hard to accept
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
what I think of the haters
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
the shelf of my bookcase breaks, and my poetry notebooks fall every single one of my love stories scattered on the floor Failure after failure Were any of them worth the effort? Was the experience worth the suffering? Maybe it was for the inspiration behind my prose and poetry and the growth I’ve had Still, that doesn’t seem like an adequate answer
dating a soldier in not for the weak in these modern time especially now with a civil war and WW3 on the horizon our new love story could be cut short if he’s deployed Things can get complicated and messy if end up dehumanizing or ripping apart families like mine because its his job it makes me wonder if we were foolish in the throwing caution to the wind and getting into a relationship it makes me wonder if we have any chance of working out
I’m not trying to be rude, I’m not trying to be mean but I can wear whatever I want, I can post whatever I want Your reaction to any of it is not my responsibility I don’t care if you acquire a thirst for me and delude yourself into thinking you love me I’m just woman sharing my story however I see fit in order for me to heal, in order for me to help others feel a bit seen I’m not here for some random man to tried to persuade into a love story I’ll never be interested in writing
Once again I’m thrown off the pedestal for standing up for myself for wanting respect I’m accused of being a stranger and crazy My response is : I did warn you, I did tell you I have no space in my life for you, I was never looking for romance I never asked for your love, and now i’m the villain and you’re another victim a victim who love bombed me over and over again a victim who harassed me with unsolicited dick videos and pics who never asked for my consent and forced himself into my world Sorry for not being the girl of your dreams but I’m also sorry for any ounce of my energy I was pressured to invest in you maybe now you’ll leave me alone and maybe even one day, you’ll learn to ask for consent and perhaps even learn to treat women with respect
consent is honesty and respect it doesn’t matter how many time I’ve kissed you It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve slept with you Always ask me if I’m okay with whatever you wanna do Instead of pressuring me, instead of harassing me with your supposed admiration for me with your stupid pet names for me I’m not dear, hottie, beautiful, girl or princess Call me by my god given name and maybe then I would take you seriously instead of ignoring you, pretending you’re a mosquito Impossible to get rid off
once my boundaries are crossed, I CUT YOU OUT LIKE TAGS ON MY CLOTHING (like the great Conan Gray said)
it’s not romance, it’s harassment placing me on your dream girl altar and telling me about your boner Even after I told you no But then you still threw me your delusional love and when I was honest right away and I told you “I’m sorry but no” somehow now I’m a crazy bitch, a stranger who’s letting her mental illness talk for her after calling out your misogynistic behavior All I said was no to you and the insults come on cue I warned you, didn’t I and now foul, you cry I told you I wasn’t ready for what you had to offer but you kept playing the part of my great admirer and maybe I’m fucked up in the head but your fantasies I needed to behead I needed to keep myself safe from men like you who try to bully me into loving them into giving in because your endless attention and compliments haven’t you read my story? I’m not no longer a woman who bends and bends to man’s thirst for me
can’t seem to get away from my demons no matter how fast i run, no matter how healed I claim to be they always haunt me in my dreams, or when I’m at my most vulnerable and happy thinking life might finally be going right for me But out of the blue, my new boyfriend annoys me, unexpected bills show up, my stalker is back and creeping on my blog, and I fight with my teenage son I wonder what did I do to piss off the universe this time
my joe goldberg is back and a sense of doom overwhelms me especially because I know how psychol this Joe is from thinking he’s in love with me because of my blog to remember the constant barrage of harassment I endured from him for a few years, I got a major case of the icks and while I should be extra happy my blog is getting ten time the views it normally gets it creeps me out entirely knowing it’s him knowing that somehow my blog and my pics on there are fodder for his spank back and his many delusions
before I was diagnosed with BPD, I was very sick I wished and wished to be anyone else but me I really wanted to be a middle class white woman the kind who grew up with 2 parents in a 2 story house the kind who never had to assimilate to fit it the kind who never had to to fill out a FAFSA application the kind who was never neglected and whose feelings were always validated the kind who writes stories or poems about her favorite horse instead of stories or poems about constantly feeling like a stranger in your adopted homeland the kind who is mostly respected by men and not fetichized or called exotic the kind who’s never had 2 jobs to survive in this capitalistic society before I was diagnosed with BPD,I was very sick I wished and wished to be anyone else but me but three years into recovery I’ve healed and wouldn’t want to be anyone else because while it’s true that many people don’t struggle as much me everyone (even middle class white women) still have their own set of insecurities and trauma I know nothing about I’ve learned I need to focus on myself, feel gratitude for everything I have as I reach my goals and chase my dreams and most importantly I now love and embrace who I’ve been, who I am, who I will be I no longer play a game of envy and view myself as a broken mess of who I’ve been or what’s happened to me I was never those things I’m a beautiful mosaic of everything I’ve endured, experienced and lived
Feeling hopeless in a cesspool of a world That will never accept you -for your skin color -for your accent -for your nationality -for your religion or lack of one -for your independent thought Anything that doesn’t fit the image of white and Christian is blasphemous To be an “other” is to carry the weight of racism, discrimination, xenophobia All the phobias on your already burdened shoulders So they try to kill us with actual guns Or metaphorical ones of insults,rejections or looks of disgust.
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
