They say that, “the saddest poems are the ones that were never read by the person they were written for”
But how do I tell you that... you’ve read all the poems I wrote about you
You just didn’t know they were for you

At age 5, mamá and papa brought me over from Mexico to the new land
They called the land America
They told me that I could make my dreams come true here
At age 10, I was in school, I was given what mamá and papa did not have
I was given the chance to have an education
The chance to give me a better life
The chance to give mamá and papa a better life
At age 15, mamá worked hard to throw me a Quinceañera
A tradition where girls are no longer children, but young women
Mamá wanted me to keep in touch with my Mexican roots
She did not want me to lose sight of who I was
She wanted me to know that I was Mexican first, American second
The position of those two words mattered
The position meant everything to mamá and papa
At age 20, my life was different
I was beginning my second year of college
I had made my own friends
I was far away from home
I was working hard towards my future
At age 25, I could finally call myself successful
I performed well in my academics
I received the job that I worked hard for
I was finally my own person with my own life
Mamá and papa called, but I did not have time for them
I was busy living my life and making my dreams come true
The dreams that mamá and papa had placed upon me
At age 30, I have a family of my own now
I fell in love and got married to the love of my life
I welcomed to the world two beautiful children
One boy, one girl
Life was busier than ever, but during the holidays I visited mamá and papa
Mamá and papa were the same, nothing has changed except they got older
Oh how old they have gotten, but they still had the same hopes and dreams for me
They were proud, I have not seen mamá and papa in a while but they understood
They knew that I was busy making my dreams come true, they could not be happier
At age 35, my perfect life took a turn for the worst
Mamá was sick, she was diagnosed with cancer
I did what I could do, I sent mamá and papa money
Money was something they never had to worry about anymore
Their daughter grew up to be successful
The doctor said we were lucky to have caught it early… we?
I was not there, I was busy working, far away from home
But mamá and papa understood
They knew that I was busy working, they did not mind
They were proud their daughter was happy,
Happy making her dreams come true
At age 40, I learned about the meaning of life
Mamá was no longer with us…
She had passed away the year before
Heart cancer. I could not believe it
The woman with the biggest heart,
The heart with the most amount of love anyone could ever ask for
Gone in a flash, but where was I?
I was working, I was working because I wanted to achieve the American Dream
The American Dream that led mamá and papa over to the United States
At age 45, papa became sick to
He never showed any signs
He never let me know that he was getting weak
He was not the same young man when I was 5, he was fragile now
I could not see him though, it pained me
I was away… I was working… I was always working
I was trying to continue making my dreams come true
At age 50, I had everything that I could ever want
But everything that I wanted came at a cost

We are divided into two sides
Two parts that make us one whole
We are those who live on the hyphen
Those who do not entirely relate to just one race but to others
We speak English as if it was a nasty taste in the mouth
Like the words did not seem to belong there
Like it was being forced out
It was unnatural, uneasy, unfitting
Nothing about speaking English fit
Nothing about being an American fit
Nothing seemed right because it was not entirely me
How do I tie myself down to only one race when I knew I was more?
How do I say I am simply only a Mexican when I am a Mexican-American?
How many questions can I answer to those who ask which side I am?
How do I answer these questions when I myself do not know for sure?
I want to explain to everyone that I am a Mexican-American
That I do not want to assimilate into the American culture when I am proud of the Mexican that I am
How do I explain the important role that a hyphen gives me?
That the hyphen that separates those two words is what connects me

When you feel like you’re drowning
And on this constant cycle
Just remember this isn’t the first time

Warm Summer skies and
the cool Winter breeze
The perfect kind of weather...
Not the only perfect thing that existed though,
There was this girl,
Nothing could match the way her eyes glistened
The way she smiled and laughed
Subtle
Those subtle moments let you know that you were doing something right
It let you know that you mattered to her
Even if she didn’t show it herself
She was somebody you would not have noticed at a first glance
But she is somebody you don’t think you could forget
She is untouchable
She is cold as the sea but hot like the sun
Her words burned but it was what she meant behind them that soothed the wounds
Those words, the words that gave you some hope
The words that could change your mood without you even realizing it
She’s forbidden fruit, she’s temptation
She’s someone who could make a heartbreak worth it
Then there were those moments
Those small moments that you wish you could have gotten
The small moments that were shared were everything
Not everyone could experience those moments with her
Not even me

I always say that once a friendship breaks and mends back again, that it’s never the same
No matter how much you want it to be the same...
It never will be
A relationship is like a piece of glass
When it shatters, all of those pieces scatter
And you find yourself left to pick up the pieces
You get hurt... hurt from the sharp edges of the glass and hurt by the person who broke it
You try to fix it...
You think you’ve put it back together again but there are some pieces missing...
You don’t know what happened to them
You spend hours searching and then tell yourself that you don’t need those pieces
That the pieces are not important
But deep down you know...
You know that it’s incomplete
You know that it’s no longer perfect
You know that it won’t be the same anymore
But you don’t want to let yourself know that
You put on a smile...
You don’t let them know they’ve hurt you
You don’t let them know you’re incomplete
That whatever you guys had is broken and different and imperfect
And it hurts, it hurts when you think about it
It hurts that you cut yourself on the glass of what you had and it hurts that you want it back to the way it was
But... it can’t go back
It can’t go back because the pieces are missing
It can’t go back because the glass isn’t the same anymore
It can’t go back because now, you’re left with shattered glass

We live in a country where skin color is used as the parameter to decide beauty
And English is used as the scale to judge intelligence
We walk around and hear the phrase, “Learn English if you want to live in America”
Like it was a casual “Hello” that came from somebody’s mouth
Like being an American was its own separate race
Like I should be ashamed of the race I was and
Discouraged for not being the race they wanted me to be
Those who hate me want me to leave
Those who say they love me want me to be their statistic
A number, a percentage, who among others are welcomed just to fit a quota
I am considered that token friend, that excuse for those who say, “I’m not racist, I’m friends with…”
I am just an object to those who do not respect the race that I am
But I know that I am more than that
I am someone who has overcame discrimination
Someone who has grown up with less than those around me
Someone who could say they made their dreams a reality
I am somebody more than just a statistic
I am somebody more than what you want me to be

If we had the ability to relive our memories,
The world would be filled with more broken hearts

You always told me that I was good with my words
And I always told you that, that’s not true
It’s not true because I’m only good with my words...
When all my words are about you

Out of every heartbreak I went through,
Why does yours hurt the most?

Loving you in the hopes of you loving me back is like me holding a gun to my chest and praying you’ll stop me

Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way I see you
And then maybe
You’ll love yourself the way I love you

Sometimes I find myself remembering what it felt like to have never met you at all
But If I had the chance to go back and unmeet you, I wouldn’t take it

You deserve
More than words
Written on a page
And called
Poetry

Your love
Is like a recipe
Not everyone can have

Humans are the most dangerous creatures
They can tell you they love you while looking into your eyes
And without knowing,
Every word could be a lie

Every person who has left
Took a part of you with them
And people wonder why you’re broken

I wanna show you how much I care,
So that one day you’ll never find yourself wondering if you’re worthy of being loved