I wrote this poem in April of 2023.

new leaves spring up in April and I have hope once again
that everything will be okay
as God shows me his love through the beauty
of the changing of the seasons
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

The hands of ego and pride kept them apart
They chose themselves instead of following their hearts
it was tragic to see how many lies they weaved
I donβt love her, I donβt love him
they held on tightly to their anger, went back to their safety nets
it was more comfortable to do so then to fall back into their chaos
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

Finally comfortable in my skin
Iβm no longer afraid to show off my majestic beauty
my curves comes one of the seven wonders of the world
and my face is a mosaic of my colonizer and indigenous ancestry
and now I grace the world with my beauty
posting endless selfies in various poses
some people may find it narcissistic
but if you possessed my goddess beauty
would you try to hide it?
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

Cover me up in rope and tie me up every which way you want
Itβs fine, itβs okay honey, Iβm used to it by now
Men and society have been tying me up since I could breathe
So a real rope wonβt bring me much harm
take control of me like you own me, tonight I donβt want to think
Itβs not much different from the way every man in my life has treated me
so do whatever you want with me and make me your ultimate rope bunny
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

I used to want a lover who looked at me like I was magic
now I want a lover who sees the real me and doesnβt leave
someone who doesnβt scare easily when I cry in front of them
and instead holds me and offers me kind words of solace
someone who accepts that Iβm both angel and devil
and doesnβt hold it against me
Someone whoβs persistent enough to get through my emotional walls
even when Iβm closed off because of trauma
this kind of lover wonβt be ideal and will have his own set of issues
but itβs the only kind Iβll accept from now
Because lovers who have looked at me like I was magic
quickly disappear when a strong wind of my insanity ruins me
me for them and they say, βfuck me, I didnβt sign up for thisβ
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

My story is important to share, itβs important to write down
but I donβt want to do it from a place of anger, revenge, or ego
Itβs strange to say this because for the past 5 years
Anger has been my major inspiration and motivation
to feed the narrative of how everyone has been a villain
and Iβve been a victim
It gave me a sense of martyrdom that allowed me
to find peace for a while
acting like everyone is a problem
While I just flounder around being wronged
And while I have so much compassion and love for this version of me
Itβs not who I want to continue to be
Itβs not how I want to be perceived
because Iβm more than being angry and vindictive
Iβm also kindness, goodness, empathy, and love
And when I share my story-I need to remember these things
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

Is this our new beginning?
our own personal spring
when we delve into lust
and almost mistake it for love
Where weβre almost lovers
Or is this another false dream
And you turn once again into
my unreliable love king?
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

lately I try to be a bigger person but last night was different
running into you when Iβm at my hottest,
when I embody the picture of an Incan goddess
felt like sweet revenge,
it felt like karma served to someone who made me feel small
it felt like the universe smiled on me showing me once again
how I am winning and that anyone whoβs fucked with me
will get whatβs coming for them
and while I did feel sad for you
because of everything you went through
I still felt like a queen, a goddess with confidence
oozing from me
compared to you who will never fit into the new me
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

When I tell you Iβm a poet-
please take me seriously
donβt think Iβm some cute girl
who writes a few verses in her room
about how your kiss is a new kind of heaven
Poetry for me has a much deeper meaning,
poetry is how I bleed out all of my emotions
I hold within
When I tell you Iβm a poet-
please donβt laugh at me or mock me
donβt berate the simplicity of my words
I weave into verse
Itβs how I make sense of my explosion of thoughts
Itβs how I express what I canβt say out loud
When I tell you Iβm a poet-
donβt try to cure me of my poetic nature
and prey on my insecurities and try to kill
my dreams of making my art seen
I know how the odds are stacked against
someone like me
I donβt do it to make it to the mainstream-
I do it so other women like me
can be seen, can be inspired to dream
And finally when I tell you Iβm a poet-
Appreciate the artist in me,
make yourself a sanctuary to put my poetry in-
Iβm not asking for endless compliments or an ego boost
Iβm asking for a safe space in you to love
the poet I hold within
I wrote this poem in March of 2020.

His love is fire
And I keep getting burned by it
and even though his love burns me profoundly
Every time I get too close
I heal and vow to never see him again
But once again, his fire enchants me,
puts a spell on me
And I return to his burning love
Even when I know it means
Iβll get burned once again
Will my addiction to his burning love ever stop?
I wrote this poem in March of 2020.

I don’t want him to be a part of me-
And yet he appears
in my mind, my dreams, my poetry
He doesnβt deserve any amount of space
he comes to occupy in my life
And within me
-and yet he comes and stays
I tell him to go away
Stay away, and forget about me-
But it never happens that way
He consumes every bit of me
and itβs a lost cause to get him out out of me
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.

How many times have I lied to myself
when I was young in believing some manβs love
would save me, would complete me
when all it ever did was decimate me
over and over again
but I refused to believe love could be anything
but beautiful
Until one day I learned to be honest with myself
and it was a lesson in dialectics
of how love can be both an ugly and beautiful thing