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
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
me and my cousins followed in our abuelas footsteps having kids out of wedlock with men who abandoned us and becoming the other woman and God bless our parents for trying to break this unhealthy cycles but Gabriela’s blood is too strong for any of us to fight off properly so at some point as we come into adulthood we search for love in the wrong places like her, become pick mes and suffer the consequences of our actions
I breathe grief in, I exhale grief out my pain needs a way out because despair and sorrow fill up my lungs and anger sits at the bottom of my stomach and I’m tired of living like this a life full of emotional intensity And supposedly there’s a cure for it with therapy and radical acceptance but how do I accept that every man who’s ever professed his love to me always leaves Will my romantic misfortune one day end? or am I destined to repeat the same story of abandonment over and over again?
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards everytime I start to believe in love it never works out Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction and i try and try again only always to have the same ending and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me to endure another love failure someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind about me on a whim the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief
Cochran street was supposed to be our bright new start in a new country naive immigrants we all were thinking america would accept us thinking our family would have our back instead my parents were exploited and me and my siblings were treated like indentured servants- we never talk about how the toxic it all was
or the trauma it brought or how we tried to fit in a country where we were squares in a peg holes and how dad fell further into his addiction and depression and we don’t talk about any of this because dirty laundry is never aired out in public
my beloved LA is under siege the place that saw my immigrant child self grow, and learn English the place my parents decided to make their new home the place with tastiest hot dogs at culver city mall
my beloved LA is under siege and all I can do is watch the carnage be livestreamed and I’m transported once again to the L.A riots in 1992 when I was 11 and violence and madness was a stone’s throw away from our small apartment while mami pretends nothing’s happening as she cooks dinner and we’re all glued to the TV
my beloved LA is under siege and I couldn’t be prouder of my people standing loud and with a firm grip of love and justice for the most vulnerable of us whose only crime was to come this country in search for a better life
Cover me with a blanket of lies and tell me you love me tell me I’m the only one for you and false promises about you’ll never leave and how you’re not like the other guys Love me at your convenience, love me when I’m easy I’ll believe the fantasy and play my role of the perfect and polite princess until one day, I grow out of my role and explode and I’ll discover once again you’re like everyone else who can only stand me for a short while and accuse me of being a crazy bitch and leave
I’ll leave an emotional stain on your life that will be hard to get rid of You’ll curse the day I was born You’ll regret the day you ever meet me because I demand respect, because I’ll never be your safe place because I’ll say “no” to being relegated to the role of mistress and you’ll accuse me of being crazy and narcissist just because I wanted to be treated with dignity just because I want to be seen as more than another girl to pass the time with
that silver lining turned into a dark cloud real quick
phosphene blooms across the room when I catch you staring at me and I feel an electric shock go through me this feels like a new kind of crazy this feels like a new stirring of hope I never expected to feel this way ever again And this feels like my silver lining a long time coming
I divorce myself from drama I marry the calm I divorce myself from lies I marry the truth I divorce myself from faking it I marry being authentic I divorce myself from self hatred I marry self love
When I open my eyes,I whine and grunt Another day where I whine,whine, whine Working to live? Or living to work? I can’t remember which is better Living is really just guesswork Maybe today I won’t feel so much anger Perhaps I should find hope in this new day Instead of living in doom and gloom Maybe the darkness will stay away Or I’ll cry at work in the bathroom again
flickering ashes, among them, the bride’s dress dreams of a family dreams of a white picket fence all went up in smoke jilted and pregnant bride cries on the floor, waiting for the sentencing from her parents now that her lover jilted her and couldn’t make an honest woman out of her
Y’all should have known better than to fuck with me trying me on while I was still finding my footing as a woman to lust after me because of my curves and pretty face Never thinking my brain was still developing Never weighing the consequences of how your selfish ways would hurt me Instead I was just fodder for your game of lust- and you became inspiration for stories and poems about trauma I still wonder who I would turned out to be- if only you two would have left me alone
