I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
love makes me feel trapped
trapped in a cage of desire and emotions
that I want to escape from
and I still try thinking this time
it will be different except it never is
so I’m giving up for a while-
Giving myself time to prepare for my next victim
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the facade of equality is cloaked in good intentions and lovely words-
and while laws have been passed to prevent discrimination
and to try to level the game of success,
it’s all a sham, it’s all a con
we still live in a world where the color of your skin and social status
and gender determine your prosperity
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
did you drink your water today?
did you remind yourself you’re worthy of love?
did you understand you were always enough?
will you repeat after me-
I won’t run away from or suppress my feelings
I need to face my emotions head on
or else I’ll break down
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Falsa Esperanza
you were my hope in love restored
everything I had dreamed of
everything I had wished for
and it was nice for a while-
getting lost in our love
thinking it was safe,
thinking it could be my permanent sanctuary
until one day like clockwork
you changed your mind and decided I wasn’t enough
and I was left wondering “what the fuck is wrong with me?”
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 August of 2022.
My default setting must be sad
because when a wave of happiness comes
all I can feel is anxiety
a stabbing in my gut that makes me nauseous
maybe I’m still getting used to this new feeling
of joy and excitement in my life
Maybe I don’t know how to deal with
finally being healthy and happy
maybe I’m just used to my constant state of misery
sometimes I am Salma,
Sexy, alluring, playful
and a world of fun
Sometimes I am Sylvia
Angry, frustrated, contemplative
and fascinated with death
It depends on who I’m with
and which woman they inspire me to be
I want to find someone I can be both with
A man who loves both the Salma and Sylvia in me
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.
My favorite words are my sons names
names that taught me about patience
and unconditional love
names that have made me get up
when I didn’t want to
names that fill me with faith and hope
when I’m about to lose it
names that make me want to become
a better person than I was yesterday
names I live for
names I would die for
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
Poesia: Algo Pasajero
I’m more than a temporary destination for men to lay their love in
I will no longer lay down and play princess
and adjust and accommodate to their egos and needs
when they can never make me a priority
when they can never acknowledge my humanity
from now I won’t allow anyone near me
unless they show themselves worthy of my time and energy
Aqui esta la version en español:
Poesia: Podría Ser
I’m not the woman of your dreams or the woman you’ll worship as a deity
or the woman who accommodates and bends according to your needs
but I’m the woman who’ll haunt you with the “what ifs”,
I’m the woman who’ll fuel your creativity,
I’m the woman who’ll make you believe magics exists
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
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
even in our middle age, our mami still tends to us
calling us, asking about our eating habits and love life
giving bits of wisdom and encouragement
still worrying about us
she doesn’t have to
but it’s her nature to do so
it’s a habit of almost half a century that’s hard to break
it’s a tradition of an unconditional mother’s love
Life on the BPD 