I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Lukewarm response as I suggest coming to see you
and my gut tells me something is amiss
telling me you miss me
but dodge an opportunity to see me
Can’t say why or make plans to see me
and I change my relationship status to single
confused, frustrated
not understanding how I got here
almost begging another man for crumbs
of affection for the bare minimum
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
the gaslighting, the love bombing, the disappearing
weren’t the worst of your crimes
but together they added up to a mountain of trauma
It was the mt.everest of traumatic experiences
constantly making me wonder about the karmic debt
I was paying
making me wonder why I kept you in my life
allowed you to take up space in my mind and poems
sometimes I think I kept you solely for the fountain
of inspiration you drew out of me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
I’m an expert at navigating the gray and vague trying to romanticize
and make fires out of the smallest of sparks
deluding myself into thinking if I stick around long enough
He’ll realize I’m the one
I wrote this poem in September of 2021.
I long to run free in a world free from prejudice and pride
I long to run free in a world free from judgment and ignorance
I long to run free in a world that accepts people like me
I long to run free in a world where I’m not hypervigilant
about toning myself down
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
karma bit me and now I’m paying for all of my emotional crimes
now I’m met with silence and indifference
and I go and examine what was the final straw
which post led you over the ledge
from friendship to being acquaintances once again
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
me and my cousins followed in our abuelas footsteps
having kids out of wedlock with men
who abandoned us and becoming the other woman
and God bless our parents for trying to break
this unhealthy cycles
but Gabriela’s blood is too strong for any of us
to fight off properly
so at some point as we come into adulthood
we search for love in the wrong places like her,
become pick mes and suffer the consequences
of our actions
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Sometimes the poem just writes itself
without asking me what I want
the rage, the grief,over what this world
is becoming seeps out of my pen
and stains the paper I wanted to write
a love poem on
I wrote this poem in September of 2019 in response to El Paso Walmart Shooting on August 3rd of 2019. Here is a link to it : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2019_El_Paso_Walmart_shooting
he came for my people
followed the rhetoric of our hate fueled president
men, women, children killed in cold blood
because they were the wrong race, the wrong color
spoke the wrong language
he came for “US”
the so-called invaders
him at just 21 years old filled with hatred from head to toe
brainwashed by white supremacy
twenty two lives taken as a consequence of a monstrous ideology
twenty two families who will forever grieve and mourn
the neverending sorrow loss of their loved ones taken too soon
twenty two families with an infinity of questions and no real answers
and as usual the useless thoughts and prayers come,
and the law makers are the worst,
making empty promises to fight this American epidemic
but after a few days, they will forget like everyone else
it’s no longer a question of why this happened
tt’s become a question of when will be the next time
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
september , september, september
please be calmer, please be kinder
please bring an air of prosperity
so I can dig myself out of the financial hole
I’ve found myself in
please allow me some time to breathe, rest,
and reset
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
floating across the water, I’ve never felt more loved, I’ve never felt safer
and there’s something magical about this moment,
a poem or a picture I can’t capture
how I look like in utmost serenity and peace
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
We danced and danced until we fell into each other
and consummated our desire
and you told me you loved me for the first time
it was then and there I knew we’d be together
the rest of our lives
escribí este poema en agosto del 2022.
Decepcionada estoy después que mi sueño de amor se volvió en una pesadilla
Estoy llena de amargura y dolor en mi corazón
Me siento maldecida como que mi destino es estar sola para siempre
porque después de tantas pesadillas
como puedo pensar que algun dia encontrare un sueno de amor
que sera mi ultima y dulce realidad
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
I made promises to myself after your departure-
I promise to be completely myself for next love candidate-
No matter how crazy that may look like-
I promise to show him my prose and poetry-
even if it opens a door to hurtful truths
he deserves to know my past if he wants to be part of my present
and form a part of my future-
I promise to not place him on a pedestal
I’ll look for his humanity, truth, and accept him for who he is
and no matter how much I love him-
I won’t accommodate to him or compromise my integrity
He’ll have to learn to live with and love the strong woman I am today
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
when I think of the term “my beloved” all I can think of are my poems
all I can think of are my journal entries
all I can think of is writing that leads me to my sanity
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the shelf of my bookcase breaks, and my poetry notebooks fall
every single one of my love stories scattered on the floor
Failure after failure
Were any of them worth the effort?
Was the experience worth the suffering?
Maybe it was for the inspiration behind my prose and poetry
and the growth I’ve had
Still, that doesn’t seem like an adequate answer
