I wrote this on the one-month mark of our breakup — a date I wish didn’t exist, but one I couldn’t ignore. It’s about how love doesn’t vanish with time, how absence doesn’t get easier just because the days keep moving. It’s the weight of missing someone so deeply that every moment feels split into ‘before’ and ‘after.’ This is me, still learning how to breathe without them. This is me, still trying to figure out how to cope. This me, trying to stop missing you. This is me, trying to heal.

I  wrote this poem at a moment when the urge to reach out was almost overwhelming. I wasn’t going to do it because I believed she would answer, but because telling her things had been second nature for so long. And there’s so many things that have happened that I’ve been forced to keep in. This poem highlights the heart that refuses to let go, clinging to hope even when it hurts.

People ask me how I’m doing, they tell me to move on and that I should just forget you. And as much as I want to I can’t. I try to tell myself that I’m ok, that things are fine, that I don’t think about you, and that I’m not faced by the breakup anymore. But that’s just not the truth, no matter how much I want it to be. 

I wrote this poem during a moment of deep heartbreak, when social media felt like both a mirror and a wound. Every post, every quote, every song seemed to speak to the love I lost and the hope I was still secretly holding onto. Everything reminds me of what once was and what it could have been. Every day I wonder if the person I miss is seeing the same signs I am, and if maybe, just maybe, they’re thinking of me too.

Yo soy Garifuna, I am Garifuna. But there’s been several instances when I question my own identity due to my lack of knowledge. I know that not knowing my native tongue doesn’t make me any less native, but that doesn’t stop the jokes, or the tease, or the shame of being the reason your tongue might go extinct. “How are you Garifuna and don’t know the language?”. My parents who grew up surrounded by it ask me, their son who didn’t. This is me reaching out to you my precious tongue, this is me trying to get to know you. But not because others are telling me I should, but because I want to.

Remember when you were in middle school or highschool and you used to just mix words together? Well, this is exactly that. But it’s not just a mix of words, it's my lifestyle.

I wrote this poem for my Latinx Poetry Now class at Notre Dame. We were tasked with looking at an image and writing a poem inspired by it. The cover photo for this poem was the image I was given and “Problematic Emotions” is the poem that came from it. I was tackling a lot at the time and didn’t have many people to open up to due to the stigma of men having to be tough. I debated publishing this poem, but it seems to be pretty relevant in my life once again and to those I’ve shared it with said they can relate. To those reading this and the poem, please know that you matter, that your emotions matter, your feelings are valid, and you are not alone.

Not every day is going to be a good day, that’s the reality of life. But just know that you don’t have to go through the bad days on your own. The suicide rate has risen by 16% from 2011 to 2022, moving from 12.3 to 14.4 deaths per 100,000 individuals. One of the causes of that is people feeling alone and abandoned, but no one is alone. The storm will pass, and if you can’t handle it on your own, reach out to someone. Because you matter, and you deserve to be here.

To say we are living in futuristic times our actions show that we are either stuck in the past or traveling back to it. People claim racism is gone, and that white privilege isn't a thing. But those claims are just that, claims, empty words because the actions show otherwise. The United States, “the land of the free, home of the brave”, has always catered to white Americans, and if you don’t think that’s the case. This poem is for you.

I didn’t get in touch with my blackness until I came to the United States. All I knew was my Latino community, all I knew is that I was Latino and that’s it. I did not know what Afro-Latino was until high school because of the erasure of blackness in the Latino community. The erasure is so bad to the point that my mother didn’t know what Afro-Latino was until I was in high school. I am part of both worlds, I’ve seen the good and the bad of both worlds, which is why when you see me, I am representing both worlds.

Mental health is no joke, depression is a very serious topic. However, they are so taboo amongst the Black and Latino community. I have been depressed to the point where I feel hopeless and abandoned, to the point where I’ve taken it out on my body, to the point where throwing in the towel seems like the best solution. I am still battling depression and I hate it. That feeling of loneliness, of hopelessness, is extremely unpleasant and I know it all too well, which is why I try to be there for others. Because sometimes all it takes is one person to make a change, and I wouldn’t wish those feelings on anyone. Mental health might be an uncomfortable topic, but it’s about time we get comfortable having uncomfortable conversations.

This poem is a great reflection of my sorrows. Also written while I was going through a heartbreak, “Done”, illustrates my fear of starting over. This poem illustrates my fear of opening up again, my fear of being vulnerable again, and my fear of trusting someone again. Because every time I had in the past it ended poorly, it ended with them shattering me and then leaving me to pick up the pieces alone. I know I’m young, and I know this feeling in time will pass. But the uncertainty of things frightens me, “opening up and being vulnerable don’t guarantee that I would stay”. That’s what I was told, and they’re right. But what’s the point of me opening up if you’re just going to leave?

Throughout several stages of my life, I’ve felt used. My poem “Conditional” highlights some of these feelings. The thing is, I know my worth, I know that I deserve unconditional love, and I know I deserve someone who will give me the same energy and effort I give them, I know these things. But, for someone reason I still let people take me for granted. I end up being a pawn, bettering them while I’m breaking. Helping them grow for someone else. Just a tool, nothing more.

Latinos are one of the hardest workers in the world and we still get called lazy by the media. We are treated as less than human for being immigrants in the United States, even though we helped build the country. There’s a lot of stigma and discrimination against Latinos and I am tired of it. I am tired of the unfair treatment, I am tired of seeing my people suffer, I am tired of being scrutinized just because I am Latino. Mi gente es fuerte, we are strong, and we will continue to persevere no matter what.

Humanity is going through rough times. Suicide rates are extremely high, police brutality doesn’t seem to be decreasing, women's suffrage is ongoing, freedom of speech is nonexistent, discrimination has barely improved, wars are still being fought, and not enough is being done about these things.

Throughout my life, I have given unconditional love, but I don’t think I’ve received the same. I am always the one going out of my way for others, sacrificing things for others, and putting my own issues on the back burner for others. But no one ever does that for me, why? Do I not deserve it? Am I not worth it?

Life is going to be full of trials and tribulations. You have the choice to either keep going or give up. You have the choice to either love or hate. You have the choice to either let your hardships break you down or let them motivate you to become the best version of yourself. In life you have choices. In life, there are multiple sides to everything, and whatever side you want to focus on is up to you.

To be heartbroken is devastating. I wrote this poem while going through a heartbreak, I wrote this poem while mourning someone who’s not even dead, I wrote this poem while I was trying to heal. I found myself in a hole so deep that the light people tell you to hold on to was nonexistent for me. The pain, suffering, and hopelessness became a part of me. They rewire me to the point that that was all I knew. And although things have slightly improved, this is a chapter in my life that I need to acknowledge.

My poem "Hombres" was inspired by all the stereotypes about men in the Latino community and the African American community. Growing up, I was always told by my parents to not cry, that men don't cry and then I continue to constantly hear it throughout both communities. Men's mental health is just nonexistent in both communities and I am tired of that, so I want to shine a light on that through my poetry.