I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
she makes paper flowers in reverence for a love that died-
for a love that never deserved her goddess energy
it’s grieving a past, present, and a future
with a lover
who brought toxicity and comfort
and it’s almost indescribable how she feels
it’s mourning a love story she was never ready to end
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Risen
había perdido toda mi fe
hasta que sentí tu caricia sobre mi mano
me miraste con deseo y sonroje
nuestra pasión se despertó
después de haberse dormido por años
¿será un ensueño corto o la posibilidad
de una nueva realidad para nosotros?
I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
the outline of her body in the middle of the road-
told the most tragic of stories
she wasn’t looking when she crossed the street
she was lost in her thoughts
and the driver speeding didn’t see her
and splat went her body
death came quickly to her
her last thought was mission accomplished
but the world thought
another victim of an unexpected and tragic circumstance
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: The Light
en un sueño lúcido encuentro la esperanza
mi abuela me dice
“no te rindas, tu vida apenas está comenzando”
y de repente me despierto de la niebla
de la angustia existencial que he estado viviendo
Was today typical?
I wrote the poem in August of 2023.
I reach out to my unhealed parts when they show up
they’re the messy and crazy parts I hide
the parts that still long to be codependent on others
and are terrified of my new autonomy
the parts that try to bleed into my present
and prevent me from reaching my fullest potential
I reach out, embrace them and whisper
“Our story will be better than okay,
we just need to trust the process”
Life on the BPD 