para la versión en Ingles, haga clic en este enlace:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12070
sueños olvidados vienen a mi mente
mientras sufro de un episodio depresivo
quería ser mucho más que esto
una madre abrumadora tratando
de dar lo mejor de ella
pero todavía fracasando
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
this poem was inspired by this silly poem from 2006 called, “A poetic tale”.
it was another boring night at work
I was stuck on aisle 10 between stocking
and my racing thoughts
a 90s dance song comes on the speaker
and just when I’m about to sing
I heard footsteps behind me
I turned around and there he was-
my favorite customer
5’10 ,curly black hair, full red lips
and a body built by some Greek God
he was looking at pots and pans
I quickly turned my back to stock the tupperware
and sneaked glances and admired him from afar
hoped he didn’t notice me in my Kroger garb
I looked like too much of hot mess to flirt
but still my dead and jaded heart was resuscitated
and my imagination took flight
as fantasies of him surfaced to my mind
and just as I’m imagined our first kiss
he approached me, -OH NO!
of course he asked for a specific type of pan
we didn’t have
I told him no and apologized
in my best customer service voice
and he told me “no worries”
as his voice cracked and walked away quickly
and I wondered, am I imagining things,
or is he also attracted to me?
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11722
nachos y queso son un poema de amor para mi estómago
satisface mi antojo para algo salado
mi lengua se despierta cuando el queso se derrite en mi boca
y me mareo con júbilo
y me vuelvo una víctima a mi glotonería
mi lengua se vuelve más avaricioso mientras
que mi presión arterial vuela y vuela
hasta que mi corazón amenaza con explotar
I wrote this poem in August of 2024.
August came and I hold onto
the few slivers of hope left in me
as I reach another rock bottom
self correcting and not making myself a victim
making sure I’m better than yesterday
Trying my best to control my emotions
knowing that somewhere in the wash
of this downward spiral
will come the biggest silver lining
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
erotic stories from my ancestors are still seen in the caves
and uncovered in archaeological digs
people intertwined in every imaginable position-
showing their sexual pleasure shamelessly-
it makes the American and Colonizer catholic girl in me blush and say,
damn, the Incas were some kinky people
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence
accepting we were always meant to be friends
no longer harboring resentment about our failed story of romance
Focusing on the long road ahead of us
Divorced and raising kids in a world full of oxymorons,
in a world that will try to make them fit
into unrealistic expectations of what it means to be human
me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence
putting away our differences and any conflicts
And putting our childrens’ best interest first
understanding they’re the best thing
to come out of the failure of us
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
and the roses never wilted,
they just transformed into flowers
never seen before
for a while it looked like they were dying
as they slowly turned gray and then black
but then they bloomed into something different,
a unique kind of beautiful
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
gratitude taste like mami’s sopa de pollo
gratitude smells like my lover’s cologne
gratitude feels like a warm hug from my son
gratitude sounds like my sister’s car in my driveway
gratitude looks like me looking at the Goddess in the mirror
I wrote this poem in June of 2023.
after the thunderstorm came and went
I wrote a hundred poems about what happened
I didn’t know how to process it
and 1 hour in therapy didn’t cut it
the epic flood of grief that followed
and while it may seem excessive and melodramatic
It was either I kept writing
or I kept dreaming of dying
I wrote this poem in June of 2023.
you’re my small town I’ve outgrown but am afraid to leave
no one seems to understand this
they’re concerned you’re holding me back
they’re concerned staying with you stiffens my dreams
and while I know they want what’s best for me
and I agree with most of what they say
How do I explain to them, it’s more complicated
than I’ve made it out to be
while you are hard to live with
life without you feels almost empty
and while it’s the right thing to do to end our marriage
so we can move forward as a family
it’s still hard to imagine a beginning without you
I wrote this poem in June of 2020.
She wants to get away
but her heart won’t let her
She wants to stop loving him
but everything in her
refuses to do so
She doesn’t want to miss him
but her body aches for him
He inspires a war within herself
and just when she thinks she’s won
the war and they are done-finite-over
He comes back to her with a 2 word text
and she lets him back in
aqui esta la version en Espanol: https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/09/01/poesia-sin-claridad/
I channel the teenager that resides in me
on days when I’m about to lose my shit
I daydream what it be like to allow
the teenager in me to take over
imagine going to the airport with my passport
and escape to somewhere, anywhere
I’m free to be nobody
where I’m not a mom, a coworker,
a daughter, a friend
somewhere where I can relax and write
flowery poetry about sunsets and trees
instead of writing poems about capitalism,
kids and big karen energy
Life on the BPD 