#latina
The music calls me
Takes hold of my soul,
pulls me to the dance floor—
and I become
the girl in red shoes,
driven to dance through pain,
through exhaustion.
Suavemente, bésame
But I welcome it.
I laugh through the ache,
move through the burn.
I crave the sweat,
the heat—
the way my body forgets to hurt.
Quimbara, quimbara, quma, quimbamba
The drums take me captive,
and I go willingly,
hips in sync with the rhythm,
feet defying fire.
What is it that makes me burn this way?
A curse—
etched in my bloodline.
An inheritance I never chose,
but never refuse.
It makes me feel alive.
And I never want to stop.
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 7:52 PM UTC
cruse la frontera
Cruse el mar
Contra las tormentas
Todo para tu mirar
No mi pararon las balas de un güero
Por tu amor mi converti en tu Guerrero
Cruse la frontera por ti mi Mexicana
Para que vivemos juntos en nuestra
Casablanca
Jul 19, 2024
Jul 19, 2024 at 2:32 AM UTC
Volveré como el cuervo
al sentir hedor muerto
volveré a verte cantar todo.
Tengo la boca llena
de espinas por mentirme al espejo,
hago tregua con mi enemigo
que soy yo mismo
y le miento, pues cruzo los dedos.
Por que he dejado de escribir
las palabras que canto,
por que he dejado el firme dulce
sabor de cantar con amigos,
por que he dejado todo aquello,
el alma , la fotografía, el arte.
Volveré, yo siempre vuelvo,
siempre vuelvo a caer...
en mi enredadera
la mente
pero siempre salgo,
hay luz allá afuera.
Crece y vuelve...
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 12:54 AM UTC
I think of you all day
and all night long,
this routine we have
is not boring at all,
seeing your morning text
makes my day,
saying goodnight
feels alright.
And I know routines
sound monotonous
and tasteless
but loving each other
is not.
I’m grateful we can connect
for some hours
and have the best time,
I also love that even tho
time is not on our favour
we have managed to trick that *******
I love you
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 9:35 PM UTC
I write poems in the dark
when I’m more vulnerable
when everyone is sleeping
while I bleed my feelings out
in letters that stand one after the other.
I didn’t learn how to be eloquent
it just happens to me once in a while every time my mind is about to colapse.
I feel everything intensely
and sometimes I try to put them in a cage
I place them there until there’s no room for more and then
they just explode.
I write them in the darkness of my bed
the place where I feel safe
the place where I can be alone with myself
the place that has witnessed uncontrollable breakdowns and
that has dried up a whole ocean of tears.
I write poems in the dark because
it’s the only place where I am me.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 12:36 AM UTC
White, Yellow, and Brown
Different shapes, sizes, and textures
Curly, straight, and wavy
You look at your reflection and do not see it
You're brown
You’re slim, light, and skinny
Your body does not resemble what it means to be a woman in your culture
A Latina woman has curves
A Latina woman's skin glistens underneath the sun
She contains an inner glow that resembles the strength she holds.
A Latina women speaks fluent English and Spanish
The purr that rolls off her tongue when she rolls her “R’s”
Her accent is what blows men away
Her accent is seen as exotic and from another world
But yours is different
You look at your reflection and do not see it
There is no purr because you can't roll the “R’s” off your tongue
Your slight accent is what worries you
Afraid your accent is going to get you a stare instead of a wink.
Afraid to speak you stay quiet and become discrete
You look at your reflection and see
brown sugar that’s sweet and fine
Your skin contains different specks of color which makes you different
The sun captures the qualities that you contain within.
You look at your reflection and see
A woman that speaks the language of romance
The language that distinguishes you from the crowd
The language that brings you strength and courage
The accent you once feared would bring you shame is the same one you have come to love.
You look at your reflection and see
A woman that has grown internally to love herself for the way she is
you contain the inner glow that resembles the strength and knowledge you have attained.
The eclipse has finally passed the sun and your time to shine has arrived.
White, Yellow, and Brown
Different shapes, sizes, and textures
Curly, straight, and wavy
You look at your reflection and see
A Latina woman.
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:13 AM UTC
la vida es demasiado corta como para desperdiciarla en cosas estúpidas, vive la vida al máximo, no mires atrás porque no es a donde vas
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
Solitude taught me
I am capable to bear things
I thought I wouldn't be able to survive.
Patience taught me
I can be more grateful
for the things I longed for.
Love taught me
I can be loved
I am worth it
and that the only thing
that really matters
is that despite everything
what you feel in your heart,
will last forever.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 8:59 PM UTC
I don't know if everything is settled down in life,
and it's cruel to imagine it like that
many live their lives believing
that their fate can't change
because life is preset.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 8:46 PM UTC
I love the rain
that comes in the morning
announcing a new day
has arrived,
it cleans my soul so deeply
that I feel my spirit so alive
the smell of the fresh trees
and the singing of the small birds
are so sweet to my ears
its smell is so good to my nose.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
she fell in love that night
8:12 PM, March 4th 2017
with a latin woman
her curves illuminating
in the ultraviolet lights
of her bedroom
she tasted paradise,
fingers tracing the outline
of her *******
their bodies interlocked in the heat between them
whisperings of 'i love you'
was all each of them could promise that night of
March 4th 2017
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 9:06 PM UTC
You told me that your name was Maria,
And that you came
From the Netherlands,
But you looked more like a Latina,
With flowing dark hair,
Perhaps a natural tan,
I was in love,
So much in love,
But I let love pass me by,
All through my life,
So much of my life,
I have let love pass me by.
You left me with a casual ‘I’ll see you’,
But I looked for you
All over London town,
It’s like that I was paralysed with fear,
I could have sworn
I saw you on the underground,
I was in love,
So much in love,
But I let love pass me by,
All through my life,
So much of my life,
I have let love pass me by.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
I couldn’t wait for my class to end so I could run outside and find
el carrito (Stand)
I fell in love with the feeling and the taste before I even knew what love was.
I stood outside holding my mother’s hand waiting for her to ask
the times she did not ask I would pull on her plaid, decently long skirt and looked over towards the man selling raspados
She knew what I wanted and she knew how much I wanted it.
I focused on ...
el carrito
as if looking at it would be enough to call the gods of raspados to have mercy over me
They cost $1.50. My mother gives me the money
I run over
The man says
te faltan, no es suficiente (not enough)
I was devastated, I began to take step back slowly, I dared to not look at my mother with this disappointment.
I barely noticed the lady standing behind the man, she was the boss
I noticed she was looking towards my mother
Maybe she saw in my mother’s face something convincing, or maybe my confusion triggered a mother instinct
Whatever it was, it was enough
As I walked away slowly with my first heart break,
the lady behind says,
tiene antojo, tu daselo (She has a craving, give it to her)
I thanked her with my smile and with a slight flitter in my heart of happiness and even more with my taste buds having a celebration just by looking at how this raspado was being made
The beautiful sound of the mountain man, holding a metal, rectangular shaver of ice
containing it all inside until it was ready to be placed in the cup. The small stones pile one by one when crushed
Just big enough to hold shape and small enough to enjoy
Then the miel con sabor a tamarindo being delicately set on top, like a creamy blanket in liquid form
Si, con limon y sal, porfavor, y poquito chile (add salt and lemon, and a bit of spice... Please)
because my mom taught me how to be polite
and then, to my surprise the actual fruit
tamarindo on top, a light brown coloring with a soft cover on the hardened seed inside
It decorated with grace and delight, the treat awaiting for me
I felt the richness
There I learned my first lesson of kindness
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 12:06 AM UTC
i come from whispers of Venezuelan lullabies
y las stories que viene del corazon de mi mama.
the annual celebracion de Corpus Christi is a
constant reminder de la amarilla, azul, y sangre roja
coursing through my veins.
when i was younger,
yo baile durante horas con mi papa
and sung at the top of my lungs
until the last bit of oxygen
en mi pulmones deteriorated.
mi cultura is the incarnation of who i am,
it inhabits every cell en mi cuerpo,
and never will i ever consider
disintegrating the ashes on which mis ancestros
were founded upon.
it's the embodiment of my children, and their children;
it's mi vida y mi alma,
and no one could ever tear down the walls
of this Venezuelan throne.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
You might find everything
in me is falling apart
but, I'm not falling
I'm getting stronger
like a great wall,
I ain't falling
I'm growing.
You won't tear me down
You made my roots get deeper
and stronger.
I ain't weak,
I ain't sick,
I'm stronger than ever
I'll survive this.
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 6:40 PM UTC
La puerta como siempre abierta
mi latido que mueve los ríos de sangre
y tu al otro lado de la calle.
Volverte a ver desato huracanes,
lleno estos pulmones
y amarro mis ilusiones.
Volverte a ver fue pasajero,
fue como un beso robado,
una foto lejana.
Estabas frente aquella puerta azul,
donde te espere tantas noches,
donde deje mi columna abandonada
y el cuaderno de versos
que los mortales no comprenden,
pero que nuestro amor
un día los vio nacer.
Volverte a ver fue deseo
fue odio, fue rabia,
rabia de saber que no me puedo acercar
por vergüenza, por falta de agallas
por falta de palabras.
¿serán los versos el arma de un cobarde?
y ¿me hace marica llorarte poemas?
Volverte a ver fue inmenso y lleno de emoción
fue recuerdo y también amor,
fue sentir al sol abrazándome
mientras me decía
que aún puedo respirar.
Y que sin dolor no existió amor...
no existió aquella criatura de rubí.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
me quiero así.
me quiero así, con mis ojos color noche
y mi nariz redonda
y la luna de canela que vive sobre ella.
me quiero así,
con mi pelo rizado e indomable
que solo se deja llevar por el viento.
me quiero así,
con mi piel del mismo color
del café con leche
que me gusta tanto.
me quiero así,
con mi poesía y sin ella,
con las palabras que siento,
con las palabras que callo.
me quiero así,
mágica y única;
porque así soy,
porque así me hicieron,
porque sí.
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
i love me like this,
with the night in my eyes
and the cinnamon moon
that sits atop my nose.
i love me like this,
with my wild and untamable curls,
who only listen to the wind.
i love me like this,
with my skin that matches
the café con leche i love to drink.
i love me like this,
with my poetry and without her;
with the words i feel
and the words i’ve kept to myself.
i love me like this,
light and free;
because this is who i am,
this is who i was made to be.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
seré obediente
intentaré levantarme temprano
haré que mis tobillos no suenen en la madrugada
dejaré de fumar y dejaré el café
sólo para poder redimirme de esos ojos otra vez
apagaré las luces antes de salir de la casa
limpiaré la cocina después de cocinar
no me haré daño
sólo para poder sumergirme en esa sonrisa una y otra vez
dormiré temprano
no malgastaré mi tiempo ni mi dinero
seguiré haciendo yoga
sólo para poder continuar viéndote cada noche al dormir
so please, don't leave
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
It kinda ***** to be hispanic.
Because apparently,
my ***** tastes like salsa.
and my calves are not strong as a result of exercise,
it’s because I’m hauling pounds of marijuana across the borders.
and I’m automatically dumb,
you know your people have been brainwashed when even they start to believe that they’re dumb.
that’s what I learned when the Mexican girl next to me in math class leaned over to me and said,
“You’re really smart for one of us.”
if a white woman has my skin color, it’s beautiful.
when my naturally tan skin is pictured, i’m now wearing “too much bronzer.”
I’m a fake.
I “don’t belong in this country.”
Because my ancestors looked up to this country as a place of refuge and stability, but I tend to disagree,
I gotta leave now?
Take a moment and live in my home. Live in my country. Know how my life works.
And then tell me oppression isn’t a thing.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC