I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it doesn’t matter who you are
man, woman or non binary
white, black or brown
with or without a mental health diagnosis
working class or upper class
at one point or another we’ll all be toxic to another person
or to ourselves
some of us admit it and cringe
some of us will ignore it or blame someone else
all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it’s a rite of passage
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Risen
la pared de hielo entre los dos se está derritiendo
me miras como si soy lo mejor que te ha pasado
poco a poco se enciende un fuego de las cenizas
de lo que alguna vez fuimos
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
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”
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
this time when I plant my garden of love
it will be a solo project
filled with seeds of only me
Seeds of my grief, seeds of my joy
Seeds of my sadness, seeds on my anger
Seeds of inspiration and it will bloom
into flowers of self worth
trees of empowerment
and plants of self love
this time when I till my garden
I won’t allow anyone to distract me
This time when I maintain my garden
I’ll water it with the essence of myself
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
I’m comfortable in the land of i don’t know
and allow the universe and the source
tell me what I need
And i fall into faith and hope
that things will work out
no matter how many unexpected crooked left turns
I take
no matter how many times I’m met
with obstacles and challenges
it’s all used to build my strength and resilience
It’s all used to fill me up with wisdom
to take risks and live life fearlessly and unapologetically
to find my own happy ending
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I’m not just a lesson learned, I’m a whole education
my mood swings will teach you patience and self-control
and things about bipolar and BPD you never wanted to learn
Making love to me will give you a degree in the best WAPP
you’ll ever experience
And when you break my heart and leave
You’ll earn your PhD in what happens when you fuck over
A Peruvian woman who’s crazy
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
Could I be so lucky to ever become the muse
of one of your poems or songs?
or am I too ordinary to be inspiring enough
to be written about
I wrote this poem in July of 2020.
The Darkness comes back
with a fierce strength
and takes over my mind
I want to run
I want to hide
But most of all I want to die
The Darkness comes back
like a hurricane
and wrecks my body and mind
and I don’t want to work
and I don’t want to talk
and I don’t want to breathe
The Darkness comes back
and not even the promise of love
keeps it away
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
I collect crushes like little boys collect pokemon cards
I’m addicted to the potential of love
without doing anything about it
except to occasionally test their waters
Nonchalantly sliding into their DMs
And posting a thirst trap selfie
and celebrating with a love song
when one of them likes it
or comments on it
hoping one of them sees past my salty poetry
hoping one of them is brave enough
to ask me out for coffee
and wants to get to know the real me
I wrote this poem in July of 2020.
Chaotic and destructive thoughts
enter my mind
I want to die and feel the blood drain
from my body
I want to fuck
and feel pleasure
with a complete stranger
I want to yell at everyone
that makes me feel worthless
I want to sing all of the sad and depressing songs
of unrequited loves –
But most of all-
I want the dangerous nonsense in my head
to STOP!
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
I hold my head up high now
no matter what happens
I will never allow anyone
to ever again dim or extinguish my light
I now understand the magic I hold within
and how it can be intimidating
to some people who can’t understand it
Life on the BPD 