I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
my exes should all get a participation trophy
for dating me, for marrying me,
for putting up my madness
for becoming muses of my poetry
unwillingly, unintentionally
for surviving the rollercoaster
that is me
He looked at me like no one’s
ever looked at me
He kissed me with an unquenchable
passion unforeseen
And he touched me, my body
And my soul the way no one ever could
He hugged me tight enough so I felt
The entire essence of him, the past twenty years
Of everything we ever felt for each other
Twenty years of lust, obligations, lies,
Hatred, resentment, passion, memories, life,
And LOVE
In his arms I felt like I was me AGAIN
It dwells in the back of my mind-
Could this be too good to be true?
Will he need distance soon?
Insecurity takes over after finding
something so sure.
Insecurity tells me I’m not good enough.
Insecurity tells me that I don’t deserve him.
Insecurity tells me one day this will end
and it will be absolutely devastating.
There is a border around you
Cemented with callousness
Every now and then
I see glimpses of good-
Within you
But only on the nights
When you are drunk and lonely
Only the nights
When you want my skin
To cover yours
You give me orgasms
And sweet compliments
And fill me up with lies-
And the day after
Your border is closed
Its impenetrable
So hard to break through
So hard to keep loving you
So I give up
Every time I TRY
To chisel a little at it
My heart hurts
and breaks a little more
So I”ll stop trying to break through
No matter how happy you make me
For a few hours
You’re not worth
Days, weeks, and months
Of misery
Again and again and again
-I let you back in
You take me in passionately
and intensely
And without thinking
I’m back in your arms
And for the briefest of moments
I believe you love me
Loneliness makes one blind
To the sad reality
You just like the convenience of my hips
Lust makes one blind
To the hard truth
You just like to use
The warmth of my body
To covers yours
At your leisure
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
three years ago, I was dealing with the most chaotic move of my life
never thought my new home would see the death of me
the princess who moved in
and the resurrection of the queen I was about to become
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
waited for you at the bar as I downed a margarita
anxiety and anticipation sat in my belly
wondering if I could be your dream girl
wondering if this time you’d kiss me
Wondering if there would ever come a day
I’d regret meeting you
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
never understood why you took us with you
maybe it was to assuage your guilt
maybe it was say you really did nice things
for me and my brother
inviting us to an all day road trip to Tijuana
in your air conditioned Blazer
silent as mice and on our best behavior
to not disturb you, your husband and your son
it was all so strange
the only thing I can remember
was the messiest hamburgers
we needed a hundred napkins to eat
and the picture with the donkey
maybe you were kind and graceful
with us at times
but all of that has been lost with the trauma
you incurred on us I’ve blocked out
and 34 years later in my middle age
sitting in my hot car in between jobs
I still don’t understand why you took
us with you
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
Ostracized, alienated, and abandoned for being too odd, too much
cried a million tears over the same story
too stubborn to learn from the tragic lessons sent from the universe
naively believed this one will complete me, this one will save me
it wasn’t until my middle age, I had a great catharsis and said
“OH SHIT, I AM ENOUGH!”
I let go of my damsel in distress story
wrote a new story of empowerment and love within
the pages of my journal
Wrote and wrote like a madwoman until I found peace
and closure from anything that traumatized me
come to the conclusion
the only hero I ever needed was the woman in the mirror
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
he can say anything because of his pretty privilege
I don’t know a woman alive who wouldn’t sleep with him
6’7, blonde hair, blue eyed norse God with silly rhymes
I’d be his working class Peruvian version of Sofia Vergara
Get rid of my empowered Incan Goddess persona
and become sweet and submissive just for him
get wrapped up figuratively and literally in gravy magic
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
I hold onto my should haves for old times sake
to inspire the poet out of me
should have hugged him a few moments longer
the other night so he’d get a hint of how I felt
should have broken up with him in spring
after that email
should have cut ties with him in the summer
the first time he kicked me out of his apartment
should have divorced him the winter
after I tried to die
should have, should have, should have
so many of them could have prevented
some emotional disasters, earthquakes
that broke my core
but then again, should haves have inspired
1001 poems and stories in my tome of lust and love
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to being a princess
go back to being a damsel in distress
needing to be saved, maybe then I wouldn’t be so lonely
but then I think of the sacrifices have to make
to keep up that persona
and every time it’s costs me my dignity and sanity
every time I’ve ended up almost committed in the psych ward
so for mine and my kids sake
I’ve burned my dreams of becoming a princess again
and keep on being the powerful and independent queen I am
living life according to my terms, being selective
who I give my lips and hips to
and understanding that to become a princess again
Would be a demotion to my identity
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
my body keeps score even when I think I’m better
even though I’ve found closure and made peace
with most of my demons
my body keeps score on certain dates
and remembers unintentional trauma inflicted
and the great impact it had on me
great emotional earthquakes that shook
and broke the core of my soul
leading to breakdowns and breakthroughs
understanding and accepting who and what’s
right for me and what isn’t
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
always second choice, a lifetime full of heather moments
the universe makes a mockery out of me
putting me in contests I never win
never being smart enough, pretty enough, American enough
will I ever be chosen?
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
ancestor, ancestor-
which alcohol goes best with making shitty life decisions
ancestors says, not the PBR, not the michelob ultra light, it’s too basic of an energy
for the kind of epic shitty life decisions you tend to make
don’t reach for the margarita wine either, too obvious, too much of a cliche
and you already have plenty of them in your poetry
Go for the Guiness six pack
make your shitty life decisions with some English class
since most of your terrible decisions tend to include some asshole
whose ancestors are colonizer Englishmen
Life on the BPD 