He always said our love would last forever,

Even through the tough times, he promised we'd last

Always looking deep into my soul,

Reminding me I’m seen and loved
Till the day came he left me,

Broken and alone, I felt nothing but regret,

Realizing I thought you knew how to love my soul

Eventually, I understood it was all bound to fade
Advanced in your meticulous technique,

Keen with lies that let down my defenses

Checkmate—you win, and the reward?

Heartbreak

I’m sick of creating new accounts
To speak to every part of me
My personality split beyond the screen,
Trying to figure out who I’m meant to be—
A poet? A friend? A chef? An architect?
I’m sick of portraying less than half of me.
So as I write my poems,
Aspire toward a degree,
As I travel the world
And learn who I’m meant to be,
This is me:
A niche within itself,
A category few can reach,
A personality that is one of many,
Bundled into the joy I call life.
Nothing more, nothing less—
Just every fragment of my mind
Pieced together, forming me.

Poetry: An expression of what was and is to come formed from a combination of words fitting perfectly together like an unsolved puzzle. The moment when the pieces finally click creating a beautiful picture of something that just started out as potential

No, I wasn’t thinking about you—
I was just driving past the places we used to go,
Hoping you’d be there too.

No, I wasn’t thinking about you,
But I still remember your favorite meal:
Corn on the side, a large horchata too.

No, I definitely wasn’t thinking about you—
Just dreaming of our next encounter,
Hoping that dreams do come true

No, I couldn’t have been thinking about you,
But when your name lit up my phone at 2,
All I wanted to say was,
"Love, how are you?"

Just stop.

I’m not thinking about your voice
Or that smug look on your face
Right before you call me “my sweetheart."

I need to stop thinking about you,
But every time you ask to see me,
I realize maybe I want to see you too.

Please, I need to stop thinking about you.
I’m scared you'll say, "I love you,"
And I’ll say, "I love you too."

So don’t ask me if I’ve been thinking about you.
I can’t lie.
I truly do miss you.
And I can’t stop thinking about you.

You are my Egypt—
A place where I was enslaved,
Bruised and broken by your hand.
Longing to be free from your burning grip,
I cried out to God for deliverance.

Then He gave me my Red Sea,
A path to run toward freedom.
Joyous as a buzzing bee,
I praised the Lord for rescuing me.

But as I walked in growth,
Wandering the wilderness,
Airing out my wounds,
I caught myself looking back

Missing the heat of shackles on my skin,
The warmth of your hand in mine,
The comfort of a familiar voice.

You are my Egypt.
No matter how much wrong you’ve done,
I still find myself longing for you.
It’s funny, isn’t it?
How pain becomes distorted by nostalgia?

I am lonely.
I miss being loved.
I miss being seen.
The calls, the laughter—
I miss it all.

Then God whispered:

"My child, stop.
Do not be like Lot’s wife,
Looking back at bridges I called you to burn,
At places desolate and barren,
Where no fruit can grow.

You cried for freedom—
Did you forget?
You begged Me to release you
From oppression and suffering.
And I did.

I know this season feels lonely,
But listen to the Spirit within you,
Not the shifting desires of your flesh.

Come to Me.
Let Me free your mind from Egypt’s grip,
For freeing your body was only the first step.

Look around this wilderness
See how the plants wither,
How the animals thirst.
This place lacks the one thing you truly need:
The living water.

Drink from Me, a well that never runs dry.
Eat from Me, the bread of life,
So you will never hunger again.

Egypt made you a glutton,
Filling you with yeastful lies.
But once you drink from My fountain,
You will thirst no more.

Allow Me to free you.
Allow us to grow deeper.
Trust Me to be your Shepherd,
Guiding you past the horizon
To a land overflowing with milk and honey.”

Tolerating you is like tolerating an allergy
Hoping that if I micro-dose,
the reaction will be less severe,
that the hives won’t itch,
that maybe this time my throat won’t close.
But if anything,
I’ll have my EpiPen to escape,
time and time again.

I indulged in what my body never craved,
but my mind can’t function without.

Until one day,
I’ll be ready to administer a dose of reality,
but it’s too late.
The EpiPen expired,
just like my tolerance should’ve for you.

Cause of death:
You.
Something I knew would **** me,
Something I’ve always known I shouldn’t have.
I guess I can understand people who are lactose
How can something so rich and soothing
**** you?

To construct a full sentence,
You need to start with a capital,
And end with a period.

Here’s an example:

No.