this poem was inspired by the 2007 poem “cold”
the frostbite of your goodbye
destroyed my last hope in love
and I turned into a statue
something beautiful to be admired
something cold to the touch
Something that would never thaw
poetry: statue
poetry: jilted
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
at 17, the pregnant bride to be got a telegram from her groom
sorry, but I’m betrothed to another and am getting married
at gun point
maybe it was the heavy feeling of rage or her aries nature
and hormones
the jilted bride with a silent fury went to her closet
and took out her ostentatiously beaded wedding dress
and with matches in her hand
she went outside and set fire to it in front of the family home
one of the younger siblings saw the insanity as the bride
stared at it mesmerized by fire that grew and grew
she walked towards it
all sense of reality gone from her
not hearing the screams from her abuela who ran towards her
and just before the bride step foot in the fire
la abuela shook her and slapped her across the face
until the bride reacted, let out a loud wail heard
across the farmland and fainted
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poetry: beatriz valladares
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
wonder how it happened-
the transaction between beatriz’ papi and luis
did beatriz have any say in her future betrothal
did she have dreams as a little girl
about her future husband
did she even love Luis or just tolerate him
because it’s what was expected of her
how did it happen
did she wish for a different life for her daughters
one where they loved their husbands
one where they were treated like humans
and not treated like cattle
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poetry: wave
this poem was inspired by the 2007 poem nostalgia.
a wave of nostalgia hits me
and I almost drown in memories
it takes everything in me
to stay grounded in my present
it takes everything in me
to not allow my trauma
to cloud the life I’m currently
trying to build
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poetry: the last piece
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
I scream watching the dominoes fall once again
I don’t know who I am
I want to be this version of myself a while longer
ideally forever
but the universe has other plans
she laughs and says
“Honey, he wasn’t the one”
and I’m pissed and lose my shit
go crazy for weeks, that turn into months
that turn into a year
until 13 months later
mama killa comes to me revealing
the last piece I needed to form a stable identity
and sends me back to my homeland
where I recover hidden bits of myself
and laugh like a child once again
where I’m reunited with the mountains,
coast, and the city
where the universe tells me
“I told you so, you couldn’t have done this
with him by your side dimming your light,
you needed to be alone to embrace your magic
And find your real identity under layers
of american conditioning
and reconnect with your homeland,
it was the most important part
in your heroine’s journey to integration
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poetry: hunger
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
lately I take the biggest bites out of life and flaunt it
in front of everyone
for too long I suppressed my hunger for experience,
for adventure
thought I was crazy for trying to explore my curious nature
So instead I took small bites here and there
thinking it be enough
but it wasn’t who I was
a little bird taking nips
naw I’m a condor reading to pounce and satiate my hunger
my big ass appetite
ready to be satisfied
with the unpleasant and pleasurable things in life
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poetry: mess
here’s the 2006 poem “dreams” that inspired this poem:
forgotten dreams remembered
in a bout of depression
I wanted to be much more than this
an overwhelmed mom of two
trying her best but still failing
an chaotic mess who doesn’t
know who she is
underneath the burdens
and expectations placed on her
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poetry: birthday week
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
man sets himself on fire for gaza
woman murdered just for existing
babies starved to death for being born Palestinian
young adult dies at dorm of the local university
collective grief rattles our communities
don’t know what to make of so much loss
happening within a matter of days
all we can do is hold on to each other
as senseless madness and violence takes place
all we can do is tell our stories
build our sanctuaries within each other
remind ourselves of our warmth, our humanity
when the world is heavy with cruelty and toxicity
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poetry: charming
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
before I knew who I was
I used to be oh so charming to men
always agreeing with them,
mirroring their interests,
stroking their egos and other things
and giving them easy access to me
I never used much discernment in this
my standard were 3000 leagues under the sea
So I allowed any mediocre joe who showed me
the least bit of attention into my universe
and I allowed this to happen for 26 years
making myself fodder for these mediocre and insecure joes
who left the minute I show then a bit of the fire I held within
and everytime they left, I was destroyed
and like a tarot’s fool I keep repeating this nonsense
until a few years ago, I had enough
when the last of the joes
said I was too much for him
and it was the final straw
that broke my romantic girl spirit
for a while I was touch and go with my sanity
but I rose and rose like the Peruvian diosa I had always been
and in horror I realized laying in bed with mediocrity
only damaged me, it was time to change this narrative
and slowly I recovered from the latest love tragedy
and starting writing my own love story
one where alone I’m enough and the protagonist
and never again have to tone down who I am
or hide the fire and magic that resides in me
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poetry: the sky
Here’s a link to the original 2006 poem that inspired this poem:
the sky fell on me on that tuesday morning
when you ended me with a 5 minute phone call
for weeks I cried on the carpet
until I fell asleep
for weeks I wanted to fade away
into an abyss of nothingness
and even though it’s been almost decade
I still think about that Tuesday morning
the morning I lost the small piece
of innocence I had left
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poetry: I’m here
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport
fast castellano coming from everyone
with cumbia in the background
machu picchu advertisements everywhere
my mind is trying to process everything in real time
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors
land that I haven’t seen since the age of 9
and didn’t fully appreciate it
happy and completely elated
euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones
to my skin
I never thought I’d see it again
poverty kept me away but I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
my beloved Perú
the land I left without consent
the land I was taught to menospreciar
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
and I can’t wait to get reacquainted with you
mi tierra-once again
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poetry: block island
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
I still watch our video, we were so cute together
(sends pic of us naked in bed)
your pussy is fire
I’ll wait for you until you change your mind
I guess loving you is a crime
these are the things said to me by the men
I send to block island
exes and lovers who continuously disrespected me
and never could listen to my no
or respect my boundaries when we tried to be friends
one of them I had to threaten to expose with the story
Of how I broke his dick
the rest made me feel a deep sense of guilt
and covered me with toxic shame for letting them
near me
and I yell at that sick version of myself asking her
“What the fuck girl, what was wrong with you”
she responds, “I was mentally ill and impulsive,lol”
and I try to find forgiveness for all of us
trying to not victimize or villainize but the fire of anger
rises up and I hate them and me
for ever exchanging energies with them
the only lesson learn in this is
be careful, be wary of the nice guys
the guys who talk a big game about respect
and still make you an object of their obsession
they’re the ones most likely to break you apart
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poetry: ocean
this poem is inspired by the 2006 poem “frustrating”
not even a year has passed
and there’s an ocean between us
desire and passion once shared
evades us
as we fall into an oblivion
of obligations and routine
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poetry: on Sundays
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
on sundays I give myself permission
to live inside my head
where I build a world I can freely imagine
and play in
where only a select few I let in
on sundays, I jump timelines
from the 90s to last year to my present
writing about past experiences
that still linger in my mind
on sundays I give myself permission
to be a complete hermit
with only my playlist, my pen,
and my paper to keep me company
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poetry: thanatos
here’s the Spanish version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11875
petrified, frustrated, and stagnated
drowning in a sea of disillusionment
thanatos finds me and whispers in my ear
“come with me and your pain will disintegrate”
and the temptation to follow him is great
I hate living in such a terrible and inhumane
world
Life on the BPD 