I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
Eventually I had to come up for air from my bubble
and live in the real world where bills are piling up,
people continue to crash out on my social media feed,
and I face a constant existential dread constantly
wondering if I am doing enough
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I’m paid less than everyone according to the statistics
and it’s simply because of my ethnicity and gender
at times I get mad about this
but then I’m like, it is what it is
and won’t change in the near future
instead I continue to work hard for my and my kids betterment
and try my best to live out my immigrant dream
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
your lips on mine taste like happiness on steroids
is this what they call joy
is this what they call euphoria
are you the happy ending I’ve searching for
since the age of 15
are you the reason that I want to burn down every poem
inspired by lovers that aren’t yo
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
one last hit before we have to call it quits
before we have to move on to new love stories
before we have to grow up and forget
our Alice and Peter personas
and try to find something mature, something healthy,
something long lasting
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
for a long time I thought the universe had forgotten about this lovergirl
thought my destiny was to be alone but the universe was plotting and planning
writing a silver lining I had quietly manifested and prayed for
taking the time to write a new song that inspires poems about love, hope, and joy
making sure I had enough time and introspection in order to be ready
for my version of 11:11
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
your love is pure and evergreen and I’m surprised by it
never had anything like it and part of me wants to sabotage it
start a stupid fight where you end up as another catastrophe
I add to my tome of my lust and love
but something tells me, it’s my anxiety doing a number on me
and I’m deathly afraid of how close we are getting
and for now I pause, I breathe, I tell myself this time
it’s different this time, i’m not some hidden secret kept in your pocket
this time, both of us have done the work and gone to therapy
this time, we both have eyes open and have shown most of our cards
this time, it could work out
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
today I won’t write a poem
because I’ve just lived one
for the past 24 hours
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
spring love happened unexpectedly
on our first date, he called me his Incan Queen
and sent jolts of electricity though my body
the first time he touched me
and even though it’s too soon to say
if this will be my last chapter in my book
of lust and love and we’re only almost 3 months in
what I can say is that this feel promising, worthy,
and something simply with pure intentions
that feels almost majestic
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
one day the weight of this burden I carry won’t feel so heavy
and it won’t be so tough to exist in a country that wants to exterminate
people like me or my family,
one day this nightmare will be over and the hypervigilance I’m living
will cease to exist
one day will come unexpectedly and I’ll find my way back to safety
and security
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
When I’m 54, I want some things to stay the same and others to change
I want to love freely unafraid and unashamed and without apologies
without the anxiety I have right now that one day he’ll leave
I want to have the same creative energy that motivates me,
and continue to share mine and my family’s stories
that will continually be seen and make me succeed
I want to not worry so much if it’s a matter of when this epidemic
of violence and madness reaches someone in my family
or live with the fear one of my loved ones will be detained
I want to have hope for the future of my children and descendents
that when I leave this earth things will be better for them
because I did the work so they didn’t suffer and can enjoy life a bit more
also , I want to be filled with financial stability where I’m not doing financial gymnastics
to pay my bills on time and an no longer a slave to my debt
but mostly when I’m 54, I want to have evolved as a healer
who continues to share her light in this world as a poet, writer, and storyteller
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I”m a complete disaster when it comes to love, well, romantic love
but I’m great at other kinds of love
Loving my children, adoring my friends, worshiping my parents
and of course filling myself with self love
but still I wonder if somewhere in this big wide world
exist an almost ideal lover
who’ll bring out my best and love me at my worse
who won’t put me on a pedestal
and doesn’t scare easily and leave
when he sees all of me
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
Hold onto joy and magic in times like these
pause, breathe, drink water
Remember your existence is resistance
all of that pain, sorrow and grief felt in your body
Alchemized it into poetry, art,a story
or you could just scream and allow it to exist
understand that the oppressors want to overwhelm you
And make you crazy and over react
using it as an excuse to frame you as the enemy
protect your peace at all costs
if someone threatens it, it’s a sign they’ve
handed you a match to light up
and burn their bridge to you
and finally,
Remember, the distress, the exhaustion is intentional
to burn out your light
Don’t let them
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Is this a new kind of avoidance?
Blocking and escaping any new love possibility-
or maybe I finally understand
How much I value my solitude
Maybe I’m finally enjoying an inner peace and calm
that comes with being alone
Maybe I’ve finally learned I really am enough on my own
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
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 wrote this poem in June of 2025.
compassion and hope appear in a phone call from my prima
right before I give in to my hate and anger
right before I let my rage control me and make it into a weapon
of destruction
she reminds me that this is not who I am and to choose forgiveness
and empathy for those who hurts us for they don’t know what they do
and I wonder if it was an intervention from God, the universe,
reminding me that revenge and the wrath of my anger is not the answer
and instead I should look to love and wisdom passed down from my ancestors
for the confusion and frustration turned into rage that lies within me
