I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I’ve been called an angel by many men and treated as such
and it never worked out and they always left me
because they couldn’t accept the devil in me
I’m more than just a pretty girl always smiling for you-
at times I’m also a crazy girl who breaks out in tears spontaneously
I’m a depressed girl who sometimes loses perspective of it all
If you’re gonna love the angel, you also have to accept and love
the devil in me
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
a shot of eggnog for every time love went wrong
and I end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning
something about the holidays always triggers my depression
and now that the kids are older I no longer have to fake cheerfulness
to be a mom to them
and now that I’m alone once again, I regress back to the bitter bitch
I was before him
and instead of reaching out to him and sending him the dozens of poems
about his departure
Instead, I drink several shots of alcoholic eggnog while listening to olivia rodrigo
as I go into hysterics rereading every single chapter in my book of lust and love
trying to accept I’ll always be a failure in love
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I want to start a love song that never ends-
a song where me and the one have almost a perfect rhythm
where it stops only for a minute long enough for us to catch our breath
as we process the magic of it all
full of laughter, honesty, and loyalty
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
Become medusa the minute I’m jealous,
left for another or ignored
and out comes my pouts about how
I’ve been so wrong
I become a monstrosity of absurdity
as I distort reality
but really, none of it was really that deep
all these men were silly passing up
a masterpiece like me
and none of the ever deserved
my angry or creative energy
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I’m ready to start living without demons from my past visiting me in my dreams
or showing up in my poetry
I’m ready for a new love story with someone who’s completely different
from anyone I’ve ever known
not someone who causes me physical and emotional harm
only to later one fill me with pseudo apologies and promises to change
I need someone who’ll make me laugh and understand there’s sometime conflict
and won’t judge me for my complicated and traumatic past-
someone who’ll stay through my bullshit
someone who won’t scare away easily
I’m ready for a new love story where for once I’m the heroine,
the protagonist, the main character,
and not the villain, the victim or someone’s dirty little secret
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
I never asked any of my muses to become the inspiration
behind my poems
I just take whatever they give and run with it
Sometimes it’s sour, sometimes it’s sweet
most of the time, will be left unseen
a conversation between me and my journal
i wrote this poem in November of 2022.
Don’t invest your feelings in me
I’m not worth the risk
Sooner or later I’ll let you down
and you’ll feel like a clown
it’s better to keep this casual
or you’ll end up another casualty
in my book of lust and love
when feelings get involved
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
bare branches on the christmas tree made of wire
Waiting for mami to adorn them with ornament
bought and homemade
it was a bittersweet christmas
The last navidad spent in the homeland
Before the chaos of our immigration journey
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wonder who you are-
Will you magically appear one day?
Or are you already in my atmosphere?
somewhere hidden, someone I hadn’t thought of
someone I never would have looked at-
do you stalk me on social media?
do I blow you away or scare you with my poetry?
do you think twice about sliding into my DMs?
do you fantasize about me before you go to sleep?
or maybe you don’t exist and this is one of my fantasies
I just want a hint whether or not you’ll be part my near future
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
tucked behind twinkling lights is the magic of a child’s eyes
so full of joy and excitement for the holiday season
at 4, nothing bad has happened to taint his view of life
at 4, he dreams of Santa Claus, hot chocolate, and polar express
at 4, he still holds a heart full of wonder and awe of the world
at 4, he’s still innocent
escribi este poema en November del 2022.
la filología de nuestro amor nunca fue escrito
era un secreto entre nosotros-
un secreto que nadie hubiese podido entender
un secreto del cual todos se enteraron
cuando nosotros acabamos
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
Try to touch the ache of alienation with my pen
writing poems to find
a find a sense of belonging
a sense of community
something beyond the platter of nonsense reality serves
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
when no one is watching I manifest a new lover-
I’m tired of solitude, I’m tired of crying from loneliness
so I dream about him, I write about him
and I pray that he appears
and while I tell myself it’s ok if he doesn’t exist
and it’s just one of my many silly dreams
secretly I want him to become a reality
I just want to know what it’s like for once
to be loved and accepted for the complicated
Woman that I am
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
held her hand until she took her last breath
he cried and wrote a poem about that moment
it was the only thing he knew to do
after losing her
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
until we meet again, Peru
i’ll hold you in my heart and dream about the warmth of my tia
and remember the taste of ceviche and carapulcra
and the smell of the busy city streets with too much traffic
America can never compare to your rich history or the warmth of your people
