Poesia: Algo Pasajero

Escribi este poema en Diciembre del 2002 porque estaba amarga y triste que los hombres siempre me tratan como un juguete.

Asi me siento a veces

Los hombres me miran
y yo sé que ven
Nada más que ese algo pasajero
Que nunca de amor se atrevería hablar
Pero ya me canse
De la manera que me ven
Porque yo soy más
que un cuerpo en sus camas
Porque yo tengo sentimientos
Y quisiera algo verdadero a mi lado
Porque ya no quiero ser
Nada más que una de sus muchas amantes
Porque algún día quisiera tener
Un verdadera hombre
Que me vea mas allá
Que una de sus muchas faldas
Y va a querer saber quien soy en realidad
Para empezar a amarme!

Poetry: Mistake

I wrote this in December of 2002 after I had a one night stand with this dude I met in a bar and he didn’t tell me he was married. I found out a few days later when a coworker told me. I felt shame, guilt, and like a dirty whore for what happened even thought I knew that this time I was an unwilling homewrecker. It was rough.

deserved an award for biggest douchebag

This was a mistake
I wish I could unmake
I didn’t mean to kiss you
And I didn’t mean for us to screw
But the alcohol got to my head
That somehow led me to your bed
And now you have to understand
Our destiny has been written in the sand
You will never be the man I dream of
Who will deserve the best of my love
So now it’s about time
for you to open your eyes
What happened between you and I
Was chemistry I could no longer deny
So stop trying to interrupt my life
And just go back to your wife

Poetry: Your Little Game

I wrote this in October of 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. I had a lot of residual resentment for my son’s bio dad. Therapy would have helped with processing processing the trauma but at least I had poetry.

my truth, my trauma

The thought of you never escapes my mind
not even for just one night
Your little game has caused me a lifetime of hurt,
resentment, and pain
Now I’ll never be the same
And I will forever ask myself
Why is it me and our innocent child
the ones to suffer for your thoughtless actions?
Him, without someone to call dad
and me,taken away from my youth
Forced to grow up too fast

Story-Time: Happy Valentine’s Day! haha SIKE!

Me and Valentine’s Day have a history – well a sordid kind of history full of trauma and drama. Since I can remember I’ve always wanted a Valentine Day where I had the perfect day with my special someone. To me that would feel like a hallmark movie. This hallmark movie would include chocolate, flowers, lots of hand holding and kissing in, romantic dinner and a grand romantic gesture from my partner. The gesture would be so thoughtful, it would make me tear up with happiness. Yes, my expectations were high on this day but hey don’t blame me – I grew up on 90s rom coms and Telenovelas. Let’s talk about my history with this day. 

13 year old me the year before I would experience trauma and drama on V-Day

At 14, I was super hyped about this day because I finally had a special someone to celebrate this day with, my first boyfriend, Jude. We went to the Valentine’s Day Dance at the school where we slow danced to the most romantic 90’s songs. Picture Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey playing in the background as I feel myself falling in love. Jude even bought me a rose and unexpectedly gave me this nice sterling silver bracelet and I teared up. I felt like wow, this is so romantic and magical, is this real? Is this too good to be true? Well, ha-ha it was. A week later he broke up with me around my birthday because he realized we were better off as friends. Also, he needed the bracelet back, it has been his mom’s that he had stolen to give it to me. It would be my first taste of drama and trauma surrounding this holiday. 

Me at the Valentine’s Day Dance in 1995, with those bangs I would have broken up with me too..lol

 In my late teens and early 20s I was always single on Valentine’s Day. Because of that I would get salty as all my partnered coworkers would get flowers delivered to their office or talked about their stupid romantic plans. One day me and my close friend/coworker Mary- said fuck it, we’ll be each other’s valentine. We’ll send flowers to each other and go out to lunch. It was a great Valentine’s Day that year. We had our own kind of Galantine’s before Leslie Knope made it a thing. 

 After that, I was with my co-parent/roommate, and this is what I wrote about that day in 2014:

“Valentine’s Day is a waste of a day for older married couples with kids. I suppose that sounds slightly bitter and biased based on my own experiences. I don’t ever remember my parents celebrating Valentine’s Day and they’re still married. So much importance and consumerism is given to this particular day it makes one wonder -how did we as a society eat up all the hype concerning this particular holiday and regurgitated it with “oh so much love, kindness, flowers, chocolates, cards, etc.” The world would be a much better place if love and kindness was practiced more often. It could be part of the new movement called “love and kindness” awareness and it could be marketed with T shirts, pins, and don’t forget the Bumper Stickers” Somehow I think this already happens with the movement “make America kind again” after the last brutal election. Anything can be marketed and consumable by the masses if it makes them feel good about themselves. And that’s why Valentine’s Day is still such a big deal. People that celebrate “their love” can now prove their awesome love by snapchatting or instagraming that shit. Valentine’s Day is just another symptom of the curse of consumerism. `

I was obviously very bitter and jaded when I wrote this. To be fair to my coparent/ roommate, he did try his best some years to fulfill my unrealistic expectations of the day and well- he couldn’t. I do have to mention that one day-I was pleasantly surprised that he bought me a coach perfume, I mentioned wanting it as a joke. I didn’t think he would get it for me, but he did. 

the Coach Perfume my co parent bought f

 In 2018 we opened our marriage and started hooking up/dating dudes. I was also going through a period where my hypersexuality was very intense. I was at a social event drunk, and I got the bright idea that I needed to hook up with someone, anyone that night. So, I met this random dude at the hotel room. I met him from an app, and he had no pictures-and that was for good reason. Ugh, he wasn’t attractive at all, but I was drunk, wanted to have sex, and I was too cute to be alone on Valentine’s Day. Drunk me + hypersexuality +God Complex =no standards for hooking up. Anyways me and this guy have incredibly hot sex and he’s talking dirty. This is all normal except then he starts saying weird things like “I could picture spending my life with you” or “I can see us really falling in love” as he’s ramming me every which way. I don’t want to ruin the mood, so I just figure its weird kink and go with it. I don’t want to ruin the mood and figure, maybe this dude is just lonely or whatever. So, after we have this hot sex, we both go our separate ways. I don’t expect to hear from him.  Well, the next day, he blows up my phone wanting to hook up again and I respond telling him “No, it was a onetime thing”. He responds, “we had good chemistry and I’m falling in love with you”. I responded, “I’m not looking for anything like that”. After that what follows are texts, slut shaming with every name in the book “whore, bitch, slut, while also trying to convince me that according to him “we could be so good together”:” I do call him out on his misogyny, but he doesn’t want to hear and says he doesn’t care and continues to insult me while trying to convince me to see him. I’m confused and think “wow, this happened to me as a consequence of my own actions, maybe I deserve it, Idk”. I do proceed to block him. It could have been a nice memory of hot sex of Valentine’s Day but once again it’s marked by trauma and drama.  Will I ever have a nice Valentine’s Day? I just want to feel loved and be loved on that day? Why is it so hard?

Valentine’s Day 2018

Fast forward to last year, when I was in love with my recent ex, the second Andrew. That year I had all of the ingredients for my hallmark movie like Valentine’s Day, right? We celebrated V-day on Feb.13, the Saturday before it because of my hectic work schedule. It was really close to perfect. There was good food, wine, butterflies in both of our stomachs cause we’re in love, and dancing. He even makes a grand and thoughtful gesture and I’m so touched I’m almost moved to tears. This is my Hallmark real life movie. Fucking finally, right? I’m so happy and I feel so loved, I share that happiness out in the world with a tweet. Now my relationship with the second Andrew is polyamorous so I’m careful that I don’t tag him and make sure his other partner Sharon is not following me on twitter. I don’t want to hurt any feelings. I ‘m just so grateful to feel loved and be loved by this wonderful man, it’s important for me to share it out there in the world.  Among everything crazy and chaotic in my life, I have this perfect memory of love. It’s almost too good to be true right, and it was, a few days later, I hear from him how Sharon’s feelings were hurt by my tweet. I told him about how I made sure that she didn’t see my tweet, but he tells me I’m accountable because my twitter is public. So, to smooth things over, I felt forced apologized for tweeting out my fucking happiness. It was great (insert sarcasm). I remember afterwards feeling this incredible sense of shame and guilt for Sharon’s feelings being hurt by my tweet and at the time I wrote in my journal, “maybe we should break up so she can have him all to herself, I don’t have the time or energy to fight for a man”. I didn’t of course but maybe I was starting to see the cracks in my relationship with the second Andrew. There is a lot more to this story about the second Andrew, but that content will be shared much later this year or next year. I could say that I wish I hadn’t been informed about Sharon’s feelings, but I’ve learned to accept that it happened, and it is what it is. It was just annoying that it was once again another Valentine’s Day followed by drama and trauma. 

February 12th, 2021, hyped about Valentine’s Day

This year, I decided to flip the switch and rather than feeling sorry or pity for myself to for

being alone; I’m turning this day which is traumatic into a triumphant one. I have declared it my self love day where I’m my own Valentine. I’ve made it so that the only one that can ruin the day is me. Lol.  My plan is to take the day off and do the following:

  1. Wake and exercise.
  2. Buy myself flowers.
  3. Watch an episode or two of “You” because I need some time with my king (Joe Goldberg).
  4. Listen to the Queens on vinyl and write.
  5. Drink wine and eat tacos while I watch “Kill Bill ” and other violent movies.  
  6. Do all this while I wear my red lingerie and take gratuitous selfies for some sexy self-care later. Wink, wink.  
Me, Joe and the Queens

It looks like I’m finally getting my own romantic movie starring myself after 25 years. Except we won’t call it a Hallmark movie, it’s more of an Indie film. I will post an update on how it all went on next Valentine’s Day. 

Poesia: Tardes Remordimientos

Escribí este poema en el 2002 acerca del padre de mi primer hijo. Sentía sentimientos encontrados después de no verlo en muchos tiempo.

Asi es a veces

El no se acuerda de esa niña adolescente
Y como llegaron ha hacer
Aquel bebe que el nego
Y ahora cinco años después
Al conocer de nuevo esa niña consentida
Convertida en toda una mujer
Se acuerda de su belleza
Y esa fricción sexual de como locos
Los llevó a la cama
Y al ver a ese bebe convertido
Le vienen los tardes remordimientos

Poetry: She Stopped Waiting

I wrote this about my first baby daddy in February of 2002 when he contacted me. At the time that we talked, he told me that he wish I would have told him earlier about pregnancy because he would have married me instead of his wife. It honestly made me mad so I sat down and wrote this poem.

So accurate

You left her without a warning
Couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye
Now you’ve come back
Wanting to stake a claim
On what was once yours
Thinking she will gladly accept you
in a welcoming embrace
Sorry to tell you
But she stopped waiting for your return
a few years ago
You taught her not to need you, not to miss you
She moved on and left you in her mind
as a bittersweet memory
And that’s how she now sees you

Poesia: Que Espera?

Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca cuando estaba involucrada con mi compañero de trabajo Lucas que estaba casado. Estaba bien celosa y amarga.

La Verdad, yo fui una de muchas

Usted qué espera señor
Que le siga dando amor
Sabiendo que usted comparte
mis caricias, mis noches
Tambien con ella
Sabiendo que me duele el alma
Cada vez que me entero
Que usted estuvo con aquella
Lo siento, pero no estoy aquí
para ser su tonta
Por nuestro “amor”
Esta historia tiene que parar
Y no lo quiero ver nunca más

Poetry: Thanks to You

I wrote this in February 2002 about my first baby daddy. He had started to be in contact with when he got the child support order. I obviously had a lot of residual resentment and trauma and blamed him for losing part of adolescence.

monsters that leave you with trauma

She was the girl you left behind
with nothing but a baby
and a desperate hope to keep her alive

She was innocent, naive, and untouched
until the night she fell into your sexy scent,
your empowering embrace, and a world full of promises
She trusted, believed, and dreamed

Thanks to your unexpected departure
that naive girl you left behind
blossomed into a woman of depth, strength and wisdom
beyond her 21 years
She will lust but she can’t ever love
She wants to trust but finds herself full of doubt
She wishes to fill herself with guilt and morals
but has learned to have no scruples

So don’t try to come back and expect her
to believe in your crocodile tears
or your most insincere apologies
that girl you left behind
Grew up into a woman
at a surreal speed thanks to you

Story Time: Paul aka my own Jake Gyllenhaal

Sometimes I wonder if Paul aka my own “Jake Gyllenhaal”ever felt this.Probably not. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 19 and he was 29. He honestly had no business dating a teenager but to him I was mature for my age cause I had a kid. He loved the passion and excitement I brought at the beginning but left cause he didn’t have the emotional bandwidth at the time when I wanted to be treated as something more than an easy and convenient snack. When the “All Too Well” 10 minute version came out, I felt like whoa this song is way too relatable. And it wasn’t because of my most recent breakup; it was because of unresolved trauma from Paul. It was me revisiting a traumatic time in my life where there was a strange power dynamic with this divorced man who had tons of more life experience than I did. Also, like the “Jake” in the “All Too Well” video he was all about the “fuck the patriarchy, I love strong women vibe” UNTIL that strong woman demands to be treated better, until that strong woman holds him accountable for his actions. People may say “oh you read too much into a casual relationship” but this mutherfucker was meeting my parents and son within the first two weeks of dating me. Tell me how this looks like to an impressionable 19 year old young adult confused and looking for love.

They always love the passion in the beginning

I remembered when he brought me around his friends and it was kind of embarrassing that I couldn’t drink with them due to my age. I should have seen the first red flag when he told me that the major reason for his divorce was that his ex-wife was “crazy” and he painted himself as the victim. I should have seen the second red flag when he told me “not to fall in love with him” when we were having sex for the first time. After maybe 6 weeks, we were suppose to spend Valentine’s Day together and he never showed up.Instead of picking up the phone and letting me know he wasn’t going to make it, he sent me an email the next day with some bullshit excuse and telling me “not to be mad at him”. At 19 almost 20 years old, I had the maturity to understand that he wasn’t making me a priority when I was making him one and I had to speak up. I understood something was changing as he grew even more distant from me and I tried to accommodate to what he needed even if it hurt And then after one week, he killed me with an email. He didn’t even think I was worth a phone call.

Later on he contacted me about wanting to be friends. And I, thinking it was the mature thing to do and still wanting to please this person that I had grown attached to and cared for, accepted this offer of pseudo friendship. Yes, this dude had kill the very essence of my soul with an email (not thinking I was worth a phone call) and I was still trying to reassure his ego by remaining friends. I did this as I cried at night wondering why I wasn’t good enough. I faked this friendship as my heart was breaking wondering how I always get stuck with these confused boys whose “intentions were never to hurt me” but somehow always do in such a way that I end up losing myself. I did this as I would throw up every time after I got off the phone with him.To add insult to injury, he accused me of giving him an STD shortly even though he had also been sleeping with his ex wife ( either cheating on me or very shortly after we broke up). During the time I was with him, it was only him and I had never given him reason to think differently. Did my sexual passion or my Latinidad give him a pass to judge and slut shame me? The things he had gone crazy over suddenly transformed me into a whore in front of his eyes. I handled that whole situation with grace, went to get tested for his peace of mind, was slut shamed by the nurse who did the testing. Still remained in contact with him and yes, this friendship was just a ruse to have access to sex with me again if things didn’t work out with his ex wife. I found out months later when he asked me to dinner and we slept together. I remember feeling disgusted and ashamed of myself cause I felt nothing and very numb the entire time we had sex in the parking lot of a church (yes-he was a super classy guy-lol). After that, he disappeared. It feels like a life time ago and yet a few of those unhealthy patterns emerged again in my love life in October of that same year (“S” aka the great breakup of 2001) and in other relationships throughout my adult life. Lol. I wish I could say that the chapter of Paul ended after he disappeared but it didn’t.

He messaged me through myspace sometime around 2005 even though he was married at the time. Me, trying to be polite chatted with him for a couple of weeks. In March of 2020, he also messaged under the ruse of friendship and as we were chatting he sends this message:

so awesome that he still thought about having sex with teenage me 20 years later

I hadn’t talked to him since April of 2020 BUT I didn’t feel closure from this situation so I reached out to him on November 14th of this year and sent him this message:

This is what closure looks like

After sending this message, I proceeded to block him. And honestly, I felt this great sense of relief and closure. It really bothered me that I didn’t stand up for myself at the time and he basically got away feeling like he was a “good or nice guy” in the situation and I let him continue to objectify me out of the facade of being polite. I will also say that while revisiting this was traumatic; it made me also reflect something. For example, how reactive I am when certain similar situations in my life have occurred. If I feel slut shamed, judged or objectified; I explode in a fit of anger and rage. I don’t do this all of the time because I’ve learned to ignore and process those situations in a healthy manner, however, if my emotional bandwidth isn’t there, LOOK OUT! That being said, as weird as it sounds, I’m glad that I got I revisit this traumatic experience in my life because I needed to truly heal from it and closure. Also, I don’t plan to reach out like this to all of my exes, I have mostly healed and gotten closure from most of my breakups; but I do have to say that certain relationships have marked me and there are certain unhealed parts of those relationships I haven’t healed from that need to be addressed. This might look like reaching out to them or writing a blog or another poem about them.

Poetry: Lost Concentration

I wrote this in 1998 when I was pregnant. I was kind of denial at the time but also knew what was happening. It was a weird and traumatic time in my life. I was barely 17 and coming to grips to how drastically my life would change. I will say that after 23 years, my son’s birth was definitely a trauma turned into triumph. I don’t think I knew what real love was until I had him.

me on my 17th birthday around the time I wrote this poem

I can’t concentrate
knowing my fate
I’d rather die
Than having to keep up this lie
I’m gaining weight
And my period’s 3 months late
I’m having cravings
Pretty soon everyone is going to be staring
I don’t know how to cope
I’m starting to lose all hope
I don’t wanna live anymore
I feel like I have nothing to live for
What am I to do?
Where or whom do I go to?
My life is ruined
All this, just by letting him in