I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
ego finally captured, I’m calm and humbled
the spiral of paranoia is gone
no one hates me, no one’s out to get me
it was a false narrative I created in moments
of madness
it was fake news as I let my emotions
get the better of me and control me
I’ve gained clarity again
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
My son giggled as he fell in the pumpkin patch
his laughter brought back the reason
for my existence and purpose
What is the best concert you have been to?
The best concert was Conan Gray!!!!
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
I punish the men in my life with silence
I learned it from my mom
she’d last days without saying a word to my dad
after a fight
always waited until he broke down and apologized
she always needed to win
and while I’m not as brutal as her
I need to protect myself when a man makes me feel
like I’m not good enough, like I’m a monster
so I walk away calm and give a silence so deafening
they’re ask a million questions why
they’ll search answers in between the lines
of the posts I write
and if they’re smart enough and get the hint,
they’ll stay away from me
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
My son is blossoming and becoming the man
I always knew he could be
He’s ambitious, he’s kind,he’s a hard worker
He’s a mother’s dream come true
And while at times he may still stumble and occasionally
He’s inherited strength and resilience from me
It keeps him from giving up
It keeps him moving towards a life full of success and happiness
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
it found me on a tuesday afternoon, inspiration for a book
a poetry book of sorts telling my life story
and while this has happened many times
I pray this one sticks because I have all of my material
in my google docs
at the very least, it’s given me inspiration as to where
to go next
escribí este poema en mayo del 2022.
Mi ratoncito está creciendo
en unos años perderá su inocencia de niño
En unos años su voz cambiara
en unos años meses estará más alto que yo
Y aunque este triste porque perderé mi niño tierno
estoy emocionada para conocer el hombre
En Que se convertirá en unos años
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
it’s the hunger games time again
I meant the MET Gala
where celebrities show off their ostentatious
and grotesque expensive outfits
while the majority of us are trying
to make sure all of the bills are paid,
wondering if we do indeed deserve our weekly treat
at starbucks, while some of us are being deported
to countries we don’t belong to
or that we don’t remember for the sole crime
of being brown and having the right documents
it’s the hunger games time again
oh I meant the MET Gala
and of course we’re shocked Sabrina
didn’t wear pants and that Rihanna is pregnant again
even though half a world away in Gaza,
moms are burying their children,
that’s if they’re lucky to find them under the rubble
and the Good Ole USA is on it’s way
to becoming a Nazi state and half of us
are in a cult devoted to Trump while the other half
are struggling and unsure of where
to look for comfort, for reprieve from all
of the fires burning
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
drama always finds me
and I don’t know why that is
even as I try to keep my head low
and walk around humble
I still get caught up in telenovela moments
i never ask to be a part of
and the best I can do is make poetry out of it
I wrote this poem in May of 2016.
I didn’t think this day would come so soon
I wasn’t prepared for the emotions I would feel
“doomed to be another “statistic” “when I had you at 17
they said
And when at 4, when the diagnosis of autism came
“Good luck to him to becoming a productive member of society
they sai
“No way, will you succeed ,brown autistic boy,
son of a teenage mom”
they said
Yet here you are –
proving THEM wrong
Here is where you belong
not yet graduated from high school
but starting your first college classes
Tonight
Here is where you belong
despite the obstacles,the haters, society
trying to diminish your light for being different
here is where you belong
-on the start of a journey to success
and here I am beaming with pride
And love for you, my beautiful brown boy
defying odds and statistics,
and everyone who ever stood in your way.
as you write your own David and Goliath story
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
some storms are worth the rainbows that come after them
like the first steps taken after an invasive and life changing surgery
like the victory dinner after the termination of a marriage
that never should have happened
like the first drive alone after beating a 15 year driving phobia
like the child graduating at the top 10 percent of his class
even though the odds were stacked against him
like the rainbow child born after enduring the nightmare
of losing one
like still being here and writing a poem about storms and rainbows
even though many times you’ve been tempted by thanatos whispers to end it
some storms are worth the rainbows that come after them
because rainbows are hope, magic, and joy that make a life worth living
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
The first and last time I tried to die
I tried to get everything right
I wrote letters to my loved ones
and swallow each pill one by one
All that was easy enough
but really dying was tough
Something inside me was too stubborn
And sent one last text out to a friend
who alerted my husband
Between her and him, I never reached my end
but in that moment
I understood the suicidal writers and poets
Living is exhausting,living is agonizing
I yearned for the sweetness of death
to take away my mediocre breath
But the universe or God had other plans
And today I finally understand
Living is painful,living is terrible
But living is also beautiful
and really living is admirable
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
saliva drips from my month as a gentle desire overtakes me
tacos de carne asada with onions and cilantro in front of me
he knew exactly how to start melting the jaded and bitter bitch in me
he knew how to lure out the romantic in me who’s terrified to start anew
and while to some it may seem like a simple gesture
he knew that to me it meant everything
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I never belonged to you or him
I belong to the world, the universe
and God
I belong to myself, to my ancestors
I belong to my words for better or worse
I belong to poetry and prose
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
I keep trying to write my next chapter of love and find my next ex
but this time it’s difficult and tricky
since I’m not desperate, I’m not crazy and I have standards
and I don’t automatically swipe right on 10 out of 10 face card,
I really observe where they stand on important issues
like will they make the main and only romantic protagonist
in their life?
will they fetichize me like I’m some cute, sexy, and exotic little thing?
are they the kind of person to cheer if anyone in my family gets deported
so many things to ponder about as I try to find my next ex
perhaps, I’m overthinking this and should try to not be so picky
then again, I know how quickly the romantic in me cling to someone
the minute I feel chemistry, the minute they feel like home to me
only for me to break apart catastrophically when it all comes crashing down
nah, I can’t let that happen ever again
so this time around, it’s best to be strategic and think logically to myself
rule with my head instead of my heart
Life on the BPD 