I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
You were one of my false starts this year
it wasn’t your fault though
I tend to get stars in my eyes
over any man who gives me attention,
And is equally emotionally unavailable
It’s a lethal combination for me
And even if I know better,
I always fall for it
except this time
I fell harder than usual
because you’re also a man
who calls me out on my bullshit
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
your boundaries are clear as spring water
I heard them between the gaps of silence
in our texts
you don’t want to encourage any attention from me
or send mixed messages
so instead, you don’t answer or initiate any conversations
and I don’t blame you for this-
After all, I am batshit crazy, I wouldn’t date me either
so I will no longer bother you
I’ll leave you alone
respect the professional boundaries and walls
you have erected
Take this as another sign from the universe
I’m still too damaged for another chance at love
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
not sure when a new muse will appear
I just gave up on my most recent one
I can take a hint
he’s not interested
he’s scared because I’m too crazy
and will fuck up his life
and maybe he’s right
maybe I’m not healed enough,
not intelligent enough
maybe for him I’m just not enough
and this doesn’t make me angry
I’m in the acceptance phase
I’ll no longer bother him
I’ll just let him be
I’ll just wait for a new muse to appear
out of nowhere from my dreams
into my real life
my manifestation game is strong
though sometimes my aim is off
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I still smile at my phone every time I get a text from you
and ugh-crush season is here again-
even as I constantly say, nope, it’s over
we’re better off as friends,
I’ll never be enough for him
So I avoid you but you appear in my dreams
Sometimes we’re a thing,
other times you appear in the background
and I can’t even make it a week
without texting you-and haha-
Surprise, surprise I still like you and ew-
a crush in my middle age
it’s so fucking embarrassing
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
she had no choice but to sell her body to provide for her family
without an education, she had to use her beauty as currency
it was her only way out of the curse of poverty
she was born in, out the adobe house she grew up in
so she put on her loudest and reddest lipstick
slid on her garter belt and fishnet stockings
over her slender thighs along with the most revealing
and tightest dress she could find and stood at the corner
with a plastered smile on her face,
poised like a doll for the taking
the only english she knew was
“me love you long time”
4 decades later her sons would make amends and forgive her
even if a couple of them didn’t know who their fathers were
even though this started a generational curse carried on
unintentionally
she just wanted to know what it was like to not struggle
to have enough food in her belly
to be able to wear more than two outfits in a year
it was her pipe dream she wanted to make into reality
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
Sometimes I miss our rollercoaster of toxicity
even when you came back to me sober
you still managed to emotionally dysregulate me
and destroy me
and while I’ve tried to find a replacement for you
no one holds a candle to you
no one brings me the level of excitement you once did
everyone feels meh and blah
compared to you, everyone is mediocre
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
Like shipwrecks in a cavern, somehow we came together
putting bandaids of lust to sooth and cover our loneliness
causing chaos and rejecting each other
only to always come back to each other
and it was entertaining for a while
until we both realized it was a waste of time and energy
and fled to different caverns
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
a moment of serendipity happened when we ran into each other
Christmas shopping
You struck up a conversation and helped me with my bags
and I told you about my plans for higher education
and you said you wanted to help me and got my phone number
we didn’t know at the time, one day we’d form a family
get married and divorced within a span of twenty years
isn’t life, so, so crazy?
How ten minutes of conversation ended up leading to the beginning
of one of my most important stories?
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I called you my mr.wrong for a long time and hated myself for loving you-
I knew we weren’t heading anywhere-
you were the complete opposite of me
but connection and chemistry kept me returning to you
Even though I knew one day we’d end
and one day came when we both got sick of our constant toxicity
and shut down our whatevership
And while I know it was for the best and we never wanted the same things-
last night I dreamed of you coming to my house
and sneaking into my bed
And I wonder if part of my subconscious still misses you
escribí este poema en diciembre del 2024.
magneto y locomía sale de la tele
mi tío me llamaba su condesita y mi tía me llamaba linda
y me río porque últimamente me siento como una extraña en mi cuerpo
y mami y sus hermanas me dicen que me estoy volviendo una señorita
pero lo único que veo es un monstruo fea y gorda en el espejo
y quisiera ser delgadita y fina como mis primas
pero por lo menos mi tío y mi tía no me miran así
me miran como un tesoro bello y valioso
I wrote this poem in December of 2021
I met him outside on a hot July night
he was everything I was not looking for
but it was a devastatingly short fall
and then I was lost in him
and everything I wanted him to be
It wasn’t fair to him or I
expectations that were sky high
with him I wanted everything
but he wasn’t ready to be my love king
Perhaps he was just a preview
for a future love dream come true
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I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
8 years ago, I didn’t want to be here and took 15 sleeping pills
one for every miserable year I found myself stuck in a story
that filled me with misery
8 years ago, I didn’t want to be here and tried to disappear
by any means necessary
my demons and inner critic were getting to me
and I couldn’t find my way out of the abyss I had fallen in
and thought it be easier to cease to exist
8 years I didn’t want to be here and felt so weak
I didn’t think I could make it
but 8 years later, I’m still here and even though
it’s kind of a shitty day with so many things looming over me
and my hormones and emotions are getting the better of me
making me borderline psychotic
I am still glad I EXIST
I’m grateful I’ve lived to see mine and my son’s many milestones
I’m grateful for the person I am now who always triumphs
over each catastrophe and tragedy
and everything experienced between the extreme highs and lows
of life
I’m filled with love and compassion and with a hidden excitement
for what’s to come
I’m filled with awe and wonder for the miracle that is me
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
radical self compassion and grace falls from my life
as thoughts of crashing my car unintentionally come to the surface of my mind
but this happens every year in early december
the old me from 2016 still wants to be heard and seen
the trauma from her is visiting me mixed with winter and PMDD
and lack of sleep makes me feel incompetent and unworthy of existing
but I resist and resist thoughts of self harm and despair
there is still too much life left in me and besides it’s one bad day out of many
Tomorrow, tomorrow, is another day, another sunrise, another sunset
another brand new beginning
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
Life on the BPD 