In my mind
I’ve slept with so many men
My fingers have felt my own texture so many times
My belly has felt so many *******
That maybe feeling so much
Has made me feel nothing at all

I’m addicted to poetry
I want to play all day
I never knew the best toy
was the one I didn’t have to buy

I find it beautiful
Something small, hidden
unknown to anyone, becoming something vast
I think I have a knack for this
The words are flowing
I’m no longer trapped behind a dam
I’m free, thirsty to explore new paths
I will pour myself into other waters
and meet new horizons
I want more—so much more!
I am thirsty
I didn’t know I had been dehydrated for so long
This is what I needed
As a certain author once said—yes, you warned me
I didn’t have to go so far
My treasure wasn’t distant
It was right here
where I belong

When I was younger
I loved tulips, but it was
because
there was a girl
holding a tulip on the cover
of a book
I loved that story
But now
I like daisies
Maybe one day my daughter’s name will be Daisy
I like them
because they are simple
they bother no one
they have their own sun at their center
and around it, many angels
make harmony
dancing to the most sublime songs

I was thinking about the hornero bird today
how it builds its little house
Really, God gives it everything
just like that, for free
So why doesn’t He do the same for me?
Tell me where to find the clay
install in my mind
the coordinates
to build my home
and be
happy in it

My mind
keeps whispering
that what I’ve done
is unforgivable.

— I am not worthy

I’ve been trying
to be so strong these past days
that I haven’t allowed myself
even a single second
to be
merely weak.

There were many times
I cried
beside you
lying in bed
wrapped in blankets
I don’t know if you heard
I only know you did nothing
I’m still waiting
for you to do something

Mistakenly
I cried out for you to pull me
out of a hole
you didn’t even know existed
None of it was your fault
you had nothing
to do
with the story
But I wanted you to be
a soldier, a firefighter
who would come to rescue me
I’m sorry for that
Expectations are a **** thing
It took a while
but I understood
I had to go hoarse
at the bottom of that well
to realize
that no one would take me out of there
Only I had
the power to do it
It was bad, I must admit
very bad
because there came a moment
when I wanted to stay there
because it was comfortable
But if it was bad, how could it feel good?
I don’t know
I only know that I looked at the walls of that well
a well that disgusted me so much
and decided to leave
I had to climb
smear my hands
with my own filth
and the dirt others had thrown in there
I promised myself
that once I got out
I’d take a long, thorough bath
I also wanted to promise
that I’d forget the way to the well
but I chose to remember
so I’d know
never to go back
And so I decided to make that path a trophy
a reminder
that I won

The part I am missing…
But why does it feel missing?
Am I not already whole?
Then what do I lack?
For I search for what is already within me
Long imprisoned
in the claws of the Devil
desperate to break free
But what will become of me with it?
Wasn’t this the missing part?
If it was already in me
it was never missing
It was already
in its rightful place
I just needed to find it

You know,
I wish you truly understood
I chose you to save me.
I married you.

Come on,
be my Prince Charming,
be the hero who pulls me out of this hole.

But the more I look at your life,
the more I see you moving forward
and me falling behind.

This isn’t how I pictured it.
I thought you’d be by my side.

The interesting thing about
gardens
is that they usually
have a beginning and an end
I am a garden
I need to set my white fences
put up signs
“Do not step on the grass”
label each flower with its name
water them every day
pull out the weeds
use poison so the insects
won’t hurt them
also breathe in their scent
feel the delicacy of the petals
and, no less important,
admire all the work done

A sigh
I am overtaken by the feeling of eternity
the certainty that no time can hold me back
no pressure can rush me
no obstacle can delay me
I am the beginning, the middle, and the end
whole

I picture myself
walking into the places I used to go
people giving me sideways looks
“She’s different”
Yes—
I grew wings
and became a goddess

My natural hair is
curly
but when I look in the mirror
I feel ugly
I grew up hearing my hair was
beautiful
so I shouldn’t do anything to it—and I
believed
that it was sacred
even if it made me unhappy today
Yes, my hair is sacred
but because I decide
when it will be straight
or when it will be curly

I cried
smudged all these verses with my tears
Yet, in the end
I broke and remade myself
gathered all my pieces
and became
the eighth wonder of the world

Not the others
To hell with the others
I want the courage and bravery
of those who said “**** it”
and went to live
I want to live
“Please, let me live,” my soul screams
And I think the most painful part
is realizing it’s all up to me

How many times have I said yes
to so many things, thinking
I was doing the right thing
when in truth
I was saying no
to the most important person
on the face of the Earth

a person with an unimaginable power to fall, rise, and keep going.
a person who cries, who suffers, who feels the seismic shakes of life and is still here
in the land of the living.
a person who can be whoever they want to be.
a person who can be light and love.

How come
you want ***?
Where is your sensitivity?
Don’t you see the only thing I want to do
is **** myself?
I want to cut every part of me
and cease to exist.
But you don’t look at me
not the way I want.
You only look at that head
between your legs
and the fact that it’s been so long
since we last did it…