I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Flowers bloom with patience and care
where there is sunlight and love
Flowers remind me of relationships
when relationships are not given
the right environment or patience and love
They die
I’m a failure at both-
I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
Gotta flex for my next ex
let me post some thirst trap pic
of my cleavage
and add a profound quote
about my self discovery journey
but nothing too crazy
I don’t want to scare him away
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My love data tells me I shouldn’t try again because every time
I crash and burn and cause trauma and drama
because every time it ends, I get hateful and want revenge
and While I do appreciate the poetry that comes
after every broken relationship
I don’t think I can withstand the heartbreak and hardship
the next time it ends
I wrote this poem in August of 2020.
I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP
across your apartment complex
As I was eating up my loneliness
with scrambled eggs and coffee
I hoped you couldn’t see remnants
of tears that had fallen before you came
and you sat across from me
and as we awkwardly made conversation
I wondered if you would be the one
to breathe new life into my almost dead existence
I wondered if your kiss would help me
reignite a fire of desire, would remind me
I’m more than a wife and mother
But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe
someone would finally love me
Here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Dying Innocence
Temblaba con vergüenza por la electricidad
que sentía entre sus piernas
sería esto la maldad del cual las monjas
que le habían advertido
estaba desesperado por parar
pero no podía
seria que acabaría quemándose en el infierno
por ser adicta al placer que sentía
cada vez que se entregaba a él
una caricia de él y ella
se convierte de santa a pecadora
I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
could we have done more?
could his story have had a different ending?
could we have all been more compassionate-
more open instead of entrenched and absorbed in our own worlds?
all of these questions are asked, days or week or even months
later, wondering-if we carry any blame or responsibility
when someone ends their life with their own two hands
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 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 