I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
The world seems to be moving awfully swift these days
and I can only seem to stand still against a wall
that won’t move
I can only seem to be the hanged man in the tarot
with an inertia that traps me into a hell of my own making
escribí este poema en agosto del 2022.
El dilema de darte mi amor
me causa ansiedad e insomnia
como se que no seras otro error
otro príncipe azul falso
que me quiere hasta que se harte de mi
como se que de nuevo no acabaré
con mi corazón en pedazos
por lo que no pudo ser
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
The last tarot card I pull said everything is working in my favor
and yet here I am knee deep in my depression as my world is full of so many changes
it’s hard for me to keep up with
and I feel like I’m playing emotional parkour at double time. not fully processing one
transition before facing the next
and I don’t remember when’s the last time I’ve been to the gym
it’s to suffice to say, I’ve stopped caring about how much weight I’ve gained
but I should considering I don’t have money for new clothes since I’m as broke
as a college student who buys ramen by the bulk for sustenance on most days
but here my tarot say there are better days to come
and lately I’m impatient and shake my fists at the sky yelling “when”
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
I’ve tried to keep my life private but I have a talent for oversharing
Especially when I’m anxious
Especially when I’m drunk and you’ll think it’s charming at first
Until one day I explode and then you’ll say goodbye
And I’ll get super salty, cry, and write
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
the scent of jasmine in the air
your hands on my waist
as I sit on your lap
Stolen moments of caresses
at the botanical gardens
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My bra is the milkshake that brings men to my playground
It gives me the cleavage that makes them feel like they’re in love
They’ll claim it’s my words or my eyes they’re in love with , but let’s not kid ourselves
It’s really my majestic breasts that pop out with their own personalities
they fuel their many exotic and erotic fantasies
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
my oldest son moved out in same week my youngest started high school
people keep asking me how I am
and honestly I don’t know yet
all I know is there a major hole that keeps getting bigger and bigger
and I call it partial empty nest syndrome
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Sex is a work of art if you are in love-
Two bodies entwined in a collaborative rhythm
Two bodies matching energies that derive
a great pleasure
It presents a beautiful picture of ecstasy
Anything else is just a mediocre sketch
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
from L.A burning to alligator alcatraz to sydney sweeney
to hash browns
this has been the strangest summer
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
The moon follows me on my drive home after open mic
I try to take this as a good omen
because lately I hold on to the darkness within
let it fill me up until I ease into insanity
gotta grasp at anything that looks like light
otherwise my descent into madness never stops
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My love data tells me I shouldn’t try again because every time
I crash and burn and cause trauma and drama
because every time it ends, I get hateful and want revenge
and While I do appreciate the poetry that comes
after every broken relationship
I don’t think I can withstand the heartbreak and devastation
the next time it ends
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
When I think of the moon, I always think of your silhouette against it
maybe it has to do with the many nights spent fighting in your back patio
maybe it has to do with nostalgia catching up to me in the heat of august
in the midst of many transitions
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
love makes me feel trapped
trapped in a cage of desire and emotions
I want to escape from
but still delude myself into thinking
it will be different this time, except it never is
so I’m giving up for a while-
Giving myself time to prepare for my next victim
escribí este poema en agosto del 2025.
agosto vino con un abrir y cerrar de ojos
y con mucha oposición de los cuatro vientos
y denuevo no se quien soy
I wrote this poem in August of 2020.
I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP
across your apartment complex
As I was eating up my loneliness
with scrambled eggs and coffee
I hoped you couldn’t see remnants
of tears that had fallen before you came
and you sat across from me
and as we awkwardly made conversation
I wondered if you would be the one
to breathe new life into my almost dead existence
I wondered if your kiss would help me
reignite a fire of desire, would remind me
I’m more than a wife and mother
But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe
someone would finally love me
