I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
in my literary war chest lies a lifetime of love failures,
insecurities about motherhood and confusion about my identity
in my literary war chest lies unfiltered thoughts about grief
for everything I never was and potential unfulfilled
in my literary war chest lies the answers to how I survived
Catastrophe after catastrophe-
In my literary war chest lies proof of my strength and resilience
in the worst of times
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
she thinks she should be thanked for flexing her confidence
clothed in privilege and luxury by posting advice to women
about how dining alone in a fancy restaurant is women’s empowerment
and I have an adverse reaction that makes me want to vomit
it feels like a modern day Marie Antoniette moment
perhaps it’s because I’m a working class immigrant woman
who struggles in America
perhaps it’s because the rights of the marginalized and working class
are being ripped away from us
and on my social media feed, this yuppie and elitist bullshit appears
how can I be friends with this bleached blonde Barbie
oh yeah, we worked together briefly
and I almost start to comment with an essay on how she should
check her privilege before handing out tokens of toxic positivity
while people like me are drowning in debt and lack financial stability
but I stop
this barbie isn’t worth my time or energy
it’s time to unfriend and unfollow the marie antoinette wannabe
who only serves to trigger my working class rage
who serves to remind of the injustice and inequality
in this capitalistic and racist American society
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
my hearts expands wishing nothing but the best for my exes
I hope that one guy got to recovery and he’s settled with a nice girl
he met at church and they live somewhere in the country
I pray that one dude found someone nice and calm like him
to share a life with
I wish the latest one found someone who’s not crazy
he’s in love someone who brings stability and routine to his life
but most of all, I wish all of them to live their lives authentically and with purpose
I wrote this poem in June of 2023.
As I let go of my limiting beliefs,
I grieve the woman I used to be
so insecure and unsure of herself
so hesitant to take control and power
Overthinking and catastrophizing constantly
it held me back from living the life of my dreams-
Jealousy and envy filled me up
Scrolling the professional and personal successes
of others on social media
Thinking, “that could have been me”
and giving too much important to the opinions of others
wondering constantly-
“are they judging me?”
It was an toxic story I told myself since the age of 16
and it continued on and on until one day in my middle age
I exploded and decided to fight my inner critic
and challenge everything I thought was wrong with me
slowly I learned to turn my story around
Slowly I went from victim to heroine
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
not every day can be filled with peace, calm, joy or excitement
Some days are absolutely shitty and depressing
Some days it’s hard to get up in the morning
without screaming fuck repeatedly on your way to work
Some days are overwhelming to push through
as hormones and emotions fuck you up
Some days are for questions your life choices over
and over again allowing doubt and insecurity
to cloud you its accomplice self invalidation
Some days are for getting up only to look forward to the end of it
when you can sleep with the hope for a better day
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
Relief comes after a nap on Christmas day
I woke up with so much joy and warmth in my heart
I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain I’ve been climbing forever
A mountain climb that’s had a most treacherous uphill
and loaded with many obstacles I’ve stumbled and fallen from many times
but the universe, God presented me this gift of contentment for my life
the understanding that everything had to happen for this reason
to live in my childhood dreams of having my own family
who brings me love and purpose every day of my existence
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
pride and ego keeps us from speaking our truths
we don’t want to be perceived as crazy or as a basket case
and we suppress, suppress, suppress-
only speaking with cordiality and respectability
when we should really cut through the bullshit
and let every unfiltered thought make it to paper
so we don’t drown in anxiety and depression
regretting everything that’s never been said
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
When I tell you I’m a poet-
please take me seriously
don’t think I’m some cute girl
who writes a few verses in her room
about how your kiss is a new kind of heaven
Poetry for me has a much deeper meaning,
poetry is how I bleed out all of my emotions
I hold within
When I tell you I’m a poet-
please don’t laugh at me or mock me
don’t berate the simplicity of my words
I weave into verse
It’s how I make sense of my explosion of thoughts
It’s how I express what I can’t say out loud
When I tell you I’m a poet-
don’t try to cure me of my poetic nature
and prey on my insecurities and try to kill
my dreams of making my art seen
I know how the odds are stacked against
someone like me
I don’t do it to make it to the mainstream-
I do it so other women like me
can be seen, can be inspired to dream
And finally when I tell you I’m a poet-
Appreciate the artist in me,
make yourself a sanctuary to put my poetry in-
I’m not asking for endless compliments or an ego boost
I’m asking for a safe space in you to love
the poet I hold within
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
On days when I’m hopeful about love-
my laugh is lighter, my smile is brighter,
my thoughts are the color of the sky
thinking of the endless possibilities
of how I’ll be loved and the many places
me and my future somebody will go-
while my cringy playlists play on the car radio
and the many discussions or fights that might happen
because one of us said the wrong thing
or one of us won’t admit we got lost
I”m still hopeful though
keeping in mind that conflict is also part of how we’ll evolve
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’m graduating from writing about revenge and everyone who has harmed me
I’m switched this narrative from woman scorned and full of spite
To a woman reborned opened to love and joy in life
While it’s fun to be petty and mean
It’s better for me to reclaim the corny romantic in me
the one I’ve kept hidden for 18 months
the one who cries at the end of rom coms
the one who’s desperate to fall in love again
to continue this narrative about how I’m in love with my solitude
no longer suits me
when I have a universe of love to give
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I could be the poster child for love fiascos-
I love too fast, and too hard-
I’m the fool of the tarot
risking everything even my sanity for love-
getting caught up in feelings and magic
being delusional that somehow it could work out
even when the red flags scream at me-
I say fuck it-I switch off the logic button in me
and go all in
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: I Think
Pienso que es mejor morir que vivir en esta pesadilla
es mejor escapar un destino lleno de incertidumbre y dolor
porque el amor de tu vida no esta seguro si te ama
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
This time it will be different-I lie to myself over and over again-
and for a while I’ll believe it-but it never works out and they always leave-
And I wonder how words fail me when this happens-
it’s a magnitude of emotions-
Intense, mega, uber, all consuming, overwhelming-
Some things cannot adequately expressed even with bilingual vocabulary-
maybe not everything is meant to be written down
it’s just meant to be felt, held intimately in my heart and mind
maybe it’s a private thing between me and the universe
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poem: The Cold Shoulder
estancados en un purgatorio-no sabemos cómo continuar
entonces nos mentimos que todavía nos amamos
cuando ni siquiera nos aguantamos
me dices que estoy loca por admitir la verdad
pero me harte y prefiero parar de desperdiciar mi tiempo
en algo que me está sofocando y robando mi paz
Life on the BPD 