I wrote this poem in December of 2020.
The words, the phrases, the sentences seep from me
when I think of you, my muse
Words of hate, words of love,
Words of devastation, words of lust
You inspire everything that is great,
You inspire everything that I hate
Spilled phrases about my desire for you
and my disgust for you fills pages of my journal
I hate him, I love him, I can’t live without him
Phrases that bleed from my our toxic love af
I wrote this poem in December of 2019.
I see your face in my mind
and all I feel is your regret
for the time wasted on you
Regret
for sharing my vulnerability with you
Regret
For the tears that you never deserved
Regret
For the energy I put into us
Regret
That I ignored your red flags
Regret
For the fucks I can’t take back
Regret
For memories I can’t erase
Regret
For wasting my love
on a waste of space human being
below is the Spanish Translation
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
the more I lose my grip on reality
the more I try to write myself
back to sanity
it’s the only way I know
how to deal with what’s
in front of me
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
desperation and despair sounds like a former friend
calling me out of the blue,
asking me for numbers of drug dealers I used to know
saying it’s a matter of life and death
in shock, I tell him I’m a different person
from who he used to know
I couldn’t help him-the call ends-
I’m no longer the person he used to know
I finally understand my value and worth
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
there will be no more lamentations for what was once
scattered across my journals and notebooks
from now on, I hold my head up high
and look towards the sky
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wouldn’t visit your grave a second time once you died
you’re not worth my time, you’re not worth my energy
I’d already would be forced to say my goodbyes at your passing
due to our familial connections
and I want to be respectful to my sister and nephews
but after that I never want to think about you again
with your death
I want to bury the harm done-the trauma you caused and move on
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
Inti came out in full force today wanting to play
and it lit a light inside of me
Fierce and ready to run towards the potential
inside waiting to be taken advantage of
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
I found God as a poet sang on stage sang
“Don’t be scared little child, you’re no demon”
it was a moment of triumph acknowledging
that all of this time, I had been lying to myself
I was never a demon, or the monster larger than life
I had made myself out to be
I was just a flawed and imperfect child of God
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
like ships in the night during a catastrophic storm
we crashed and wrecked
never saw the end coming, it just happened
one day we were, the next day we weren’t
while we were completely destroyed
and suffered like never before
at end of it all,
we can say
we became better for it
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I want to be just like you, so confident, so carefree
you never allow responsibility guilt you or bring you down
So I mirrored and mirrored you leaving my old self behind
wanting to free myself from the chains off my husband and kids
I wanna be fun, I wanna be sexy
let me fuck whoever I want
and I try but it never makes me happy
it was like jumping continuously on a trampoline of self destruction
sabotaging my chances at happiness, at success
at true self awareness
and one day the trampoline broke along with me
and I picked up my broken pieces
Dismissed the distractions and my need for validation
and I learned not to mirror you or anyone else
I finally found comfort and love in my own skin
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
you look lost in your thoughts
is there something wrong, something I did-
what’s on your mind that makes you silent and sad
tell me what’s going on-
so I can help lessen your burden
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wish I could forgive everyone who did me harm-
but something in me won’t allow me too
maybe it’s unprocessed trauma that still wants to speak-
about every single atrocity I’ve experienced
at the hands of those who said
they care for me and love me
I really wish I was better than this-
constantly holding onto these old grudges
but something in me still needs to heal
so I can stop obsessing about revenge
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
outgrowing old patterns is like I’m shedding my skin
And new healthy skin is replacing it
at times I want to scream and feel like I’m dying
and other times I’m fine
Am I finally close to recovery from BPD?
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
breathing out the past, inhaling the future
I fall into emotional stability and it’s uncomfortable
I didn’t understand or know how to live a life without chaos
because for most of my life
I danced in the fire of chaos-wildly swinging everywhere
Discordant and without direction
And now I found rhythm along with direction
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
false words fall from the lips of the supposed chosen prophets
and some people are desperate enough to believe them
some people see hope in those words in a world
that has forgotten about them
Life on the BPD 