I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Halfway through 41, I am truly alone
no potential love candidates
and sometimes the loneliness threatens to kill my soul-
But I know better than to suffer through another deception
so I process all of my feelings through poetry
Hoping it’s enough to keep the romantic in me
from making another mistake
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Let’s go to war with ourselves
and speak our truth and heal unprocessed trauma within
and face our fear and insecurities
we’ll walk out with confidence and feel empowered
We’ll leave with versions of ourselves ready
to reach our full potential and ready to love
List 30 things that make you happy.
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
At 5 am, I woke up and wrote a 4 page poem
about how I wasn’t enough and proceeded to crash my car
and my therapist asked if I wanted to die-
And I was like “nah, I just couldn’t reign my impulsivity in”
at least this time I got control of the car and didn’t fuck
anyone else up
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I used to water my roots with the supposed love of others
their compliments, their energy made me whole
but eventually they’d tired of being my water, my earth
my everything and leave
And I was left once again incomplete-
until one day I learned to water my roots with my tears,
my strength, my self-love
And now my growth and potential are infinite
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Adios
I keep my screams and cries inside for the sake of my pride
I’ll pretend I’m happy and fine
even as waves of infinite grief wash over me
and I’m drenched in humiliation and shame
for allowing myself to become the pawn in a game
played by another guy who’s only looking for a temporary distraction
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I give my pain and sorrow to God
and it lessens the heaviness in my soul
and I’ve never felt lighter
and I laugh more and feel content and gratitude
and I no longer want to die
Instead I’m excited to live
I’m excited about my wrinkles and every birthday
because I’m finally enjoying the gift of life
God has bestowed on me
List 10 things you know to be absolutely certain.
Aqui esta version en Espanol de este poema:
Poesia: Moriste Para Mi
You were another mistake made
another one I’m throwing in the land of the forgotten
another one who couldn’t appreciate the rare and precious gem
that I am
another one who’ll inspire poetry about how my heart broke once again
by trusting the wrong man
I wrote this in July of 2022.
Morning rain makes me want to lay longer in bed
and listen to music and cry
cry about everything that could have been
but instead I get up and start my day
even try to get excited about it
because if I give in to my depression
for even one day
my inner critic wins
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
The cure for a broken soul is finding love and validation
within yourself
It’s finding beauty in the ordinary
It’s finding joy in the mundane moments of life
The cure for a broken soul is finding faith and hope
in the most trying of times
and accepting the darkness within you is temporary
and not everything deserves your energy
The cure for a broken soul is acceptance and love
from the universe, the source and God
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’m making amends with lovers and friends who’ve hurt me
holding this much resentment in feels heavy
And I’m tired of being a slave to past grudges
it feels like an eternal emotional blockage
So I’m filled with empathy and forgiveness
For those who’ve made me feel worthless
Because enough is really enough
and I’m tired of being fueled by hate
I wanna now be fueled by love
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
The volcano that lived inside of me
is ready to erupt and about to ruin everything
my explosive anger cannot be reigned in
this intensity is a consequence of my BPD
and it will cause my lover to flee
the lava of me will make him wary
and once again, I’m left
in the desolate land of lonely
wishing away the volcano inside of me
How do you waste the most time every day?
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Feeling the fatigue of life makes me want lay down
in an endless sleep-
Some people call it suicidal ideation
I call it relief from grief-
But that’s when I use all of my coping skills
write sad poetry, or write a gratitude list
or just allow myself to feel everything
I’m trying to escape from
and constantly remind myself feelings like this
are always temporary
and tomorrow could bring new and exciting things to see
Life on the BPD 