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 in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way that they almost always seem to just want the fun and sexy part of me but seem to often have problems seeing the rest of me. I’ve almost always felt like I’ve been good enough to be their lover but never good enough to be introduced to their mother. Do I still feel this way? I honestly don’t know. I like the attention and validation I get from men because of my looks but sometimes it feels so hollow. **This poem went through heavy edits in June of 2026.
Tell me I’m beautiful, tell me I’m sexy
Objectify me, sleep with me
breadcrumb me, ghost me,
then try to come back to me
And when I deny you
insult me, threaten me,try your best to hurt me-
Your words mean nothing to me
You’re not the first but will be the last
who tries to destroy me
You’re not the first but will be the last
who treats me like your on call whore
You’re not the first but will be the last
who tells me I’m not good enough
and after all that, try to come back again
and
Tell me you miss, tell me you want me
Tell me you’re sorry, tell me you LOVE ME
Be persistent in your quest in trying to bed me with empty promises
about how this time it will be different
and how we have history
so I can laugh and laugh and turn you down
and watch you sulk
honey, I know you watch me on social media
so you should know better than to ever come back to me
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 in September of 2019 after I read somewhere about some politician making fun of AOC for doing the “Latina Thing”. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
Edit: I revised this poem heavily in 2025 when I performed it in open mic. Here’s a link to that performance
make fun of our accents,make fun of our names-
call us feisty, caliente, spicy. too loud, too sexy
try to bully us into silence
try to put us down with racist and ignorant insults
try to stereotype us-
try to make us feel less than
try to kill us-
but understand that we’re here to stay,
and we’re not letting anyone get in our way
don’t you know that we’re descendents
of Mayan, Aztec, and Incan Kings and Queens
and survival and resilience is embedded in our DNA
y estamos aquí para quedarnos para siempre
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 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 2022.
My jealousy is green and monstrous-
Its big and dramatic
It’s almost epic and i’m like dammit
I wish I wasn’t like this
but maybe it’s time to accept it
it’s not that I’m toxic
Or that something is wrong with me
I just need a lover who only has eyes for me,
who doesn’t think about other options
when he’s with me
who’s so obsessed with me,
I’m like the air he needs to breathe
in order to live
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 2025.
I believe a good poem
will move you in such a way
it will evoke some emotion in you
I believe a great poem
will rip you apart, punch you in the gut
and render you completely speechless
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
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
Back to black blast from my car radio as I drive aimlessly in the rain
I have a boyfriend but I still feel alone
It turns out that being in a relationship isn’t the cure for my loneliness after all
Some people will say it’s the long distance, others will say it’s how I still keep my guard up
I think it’s a mixture of both and how I have a tendency to fuck up in love
Life on the BPD 