I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Dear future heartbroken me,
Sometimes it won’t be you or even him
Sometimes things don’t work out
It’s nothing to be obsessed about
Sometimes love isn’t enough
It doesn’t mean you’re not enough
Sometimes things end abruptly
and it’s not the end of your story
and sometimes you learn from it
And most of the time
it will serve to change your narrative
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Thorny long stemmed burgundy red roses remind me of how I’m loved
The beauty of the roses is how men admire me and fall for me
the burgundy red reminds me of how my heart bleeds after they leave me
and the sharp thorns stab my lungs as rejection and devastation sets in
aqui esta la version en Espanol:
poesía: inesperado
thought I was done with this part of my life
accepted solitude was now my new life
but you had to smile at me
butterflies appear and I want to vomit
my heart races everytime you’re near
And ugh, I fucking hate you for this
so embarrassing at my age to crush on someone so hard
and to write poems about a new unrequited love
And I tried to ignore and quell this feeling
but you have the audacity to appear in my dreams
maybe it’s your fire energy, maybe it’s your poetry
I’m not sure exactly what it is
but fuck you for bringing out the romantic in me
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
Always has never been a friend of mine
because of the many lies I associate with it
I’ll always be here for you-
I’ll always love you
I’ll always be your friend
so now I never believe people who say always
Instead, I look at them with cynicism
And tell them, “that’s nice but I don’t believe you”
I wrote this poem in april of 2023.
as I hug the tree, I feel the gentleness
of this most magnificent masterpiece of oak
it’s a reminder of God’s love
for my wretched soul
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
hope appears in the leaves dancing on an almost spring day
and I sit in stillness and silence wondering what it means
Admiring the splendor of nature before me
understanding how beauty is found in the ordinary
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 doesn’t leave
someone who doesn’t scare easily when I cry in front of them
and instead holds me and offers me kind words of solace
someone who accepts that I’m both angel and devil
and doesn’t hold it against me
Someone who’s persistent enough to get through my emotional walls
even when I’m closed off because of trauma
this kind of lover won’t be ideal and will have his own set of issues
but it’s the only kind I’ll 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, “fuck me, I didn’t sign up for this”
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
My story is important to share, it’s important to write down
but I don’t want to do it from a place of anger, revenge, or ego
It’s 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 I’ve 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
It’s not who I want to continue to be
It’s not how I want to be perceived
because I’m more than being angry and vindictive
I’m 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 2023.
lately I try to be a bigger person but last night was different
running into you when I’m 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 who’s fucked with me
will get what’s 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 2020.
I don’t want him to be a part of me-
And yet he appears
in my mind, my dreams, my poetry
He doesn’t 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 it’s a lost cause to get him out out of me
I wrote this poem in March of 2023. My reference is to Joe Goldberg from the show “YOU” and not Joe Biden( who is in his own right a monster as well.lol)
I sit around in horror-
flagellating myself for comparing myself
to a monster
I know that this was the only way to cope and process
with emotions that threatened to crush me
but if I had to be honest with myself
it makes me question the reality I was living in
and maybe the psychotic who resided inside of me
I wrote this poem in March of 2020.
Trapped in this self made prison-
Trapped in what I thought was the American Dream
/but in reality is the immigrant nightmare
Trapped in my mom’s life
Trapped under a heavy blanket of strength
I continue to cloak myself in
Trapped in a suburban hell
of family and responsibilities
Trapped because I wasn’t patient enough,
wasn’t independent enough
to build the life I truly wanted
And instead settled
for a mediocre one
Trapped because of my fear of being lonely
a fear that has chained me to a heavy present
without any hope for the future
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
Sometimes I’m like fuck this healing journey
can I just go back to the woman I used to be
the woman who invited and welcome chaos in
the woman who needed a man to make her feel complete
the woman who bought into society’s conditioning about who she should be
can I just be her for a day or two
To get some perspective as to why this journey is so important to me
I wrote this in February of 2019
Mother of three
What does that even mean?
Responsibilities, obligations, duties
Alcohol and going out are taboo for me
Songs of sacrifices and martyrdom
Are the tunes I hum
Dinner with friends and late
Night concerts are just WRONG!
Soccer games and play dates
Are my important dates
No time to spend
With my lifetime mates?
Mother of three,
Will I ever be free?
Life on the BPD 