poetry: nails

this poem was inspired by the 2007 “dreams part 2”

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12305

for real

nail on the coffin on the future I wanted
no prince charming
no house with the white picket fence
instead I stare down at the barrel of poverty
trying to find a glimmer of who I used to be
among my many forgotten dreams

poetry: the script

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

last time I had my last first kiss
it was wasted on a middle age scorpio
I wore a cute summer dress with red lipstick
along with my feminine charm
I didn’t have to lay it on thick for him to desire me
for him to want to kiss me
he would’ve fuck me I hadn’t been on my period
his hands roamed almost every inch of my body
as if it belong to him for the 5 minutes we made out
while I dissociated and pretended I was somewhere else
I was numb and devoid of feeling anything
Am I even a person?
He said things about how I was so hot and sexy
and how sad it was that couldn’t screw me
And I laughed flirtatiously following the script
I’ve had since I could remember
and I felt no desire or any pleasure
if anything I was repulsed
by him, by myself
hating how even at 40,
I was still pulling the same bullshit since I was 16
making myself an object of desire for me to play with
and then something snapped in me that day
a couple of hours after that date
I sent him a snap along with all the other 7 dudes
I was entertaining and keeping as options
the same message,
β€œI’m sorry, I’m not in a place to date or even
to have men as friends, I wish you the best”
it was hard as I had always been addicted
to men’s attention and validation
but something told me it was time
to switch the narrative
even though I knew it would be lonely

poetry: ew, spring

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I hate it when I catch myself being unintentionally sweet
It makes me feel vulnerable and weak
It’s almost as if my armor of empowered Queen
is breaking and I can’t allow that to happen
I’ve come too far in my heroine’s journey
to allow romantic daydreams
to disrupt it
And I’m tempted to erase his messages
And block him
It’s not his fault or mine
It’s the faulty wiring in my brain
it causes the logic in me to short circuit
every time I talk to him

poetry: Jesusa

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

the end of my princess era

you were a dead end street
that I didn’t see until
it unraveled me 
Until it was too late
and I didn’t want to turn around
and kept going
and eventually I crashed
in the most magnificent
and catastrophic of ways
and I burned and burned
until I was ashes
and rose up in the most
spectacular rebirth
anyone had witnessed
since Jesus

poesΓ­a: colorin colorado

escribΓ­ este poema en marzo de 2024.

el y yo

era tiempo de convertimos en extraΓ±os y esta vez para siempre
No habΓ­a mΓ‘s vueltas que dar o mas capΓ­tulos de nuestra historia
que escribir
Aceptar que ya nunca mΓ‘s seremos fue el favor mΓ‘s grande que nos hicimos
Ojala que esta vez seamos extraΓ±os para siempre
porque siendo algo mΓ‘s siempre nos causa un daΓ±o y conflicto
interno
Ojala que esta vez seamos como el fin del cuento que mi papΓ‘ me contaba
cuando era niΓ±a,
β€œColorin colorado nuestro cuento se ha acabado”

poetry: self harm

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

the kind of toxic energy me and my muse were

being with you was a form of self harm
it was another symptom of my mental illness
It was me living with my unhealed alcoholic daddy issues
it was the worst version of me
trying to find some kind of semblance of love
to fill the void with whatever, even if that love
looked toxic, brought out the worst in me,
berated and assaulted me
still stupidly I went back to you and accepted you
in my life over and over again
even with delusional daydreams in the back of my mind
that if I kept you in my life long enough
eventually you’d change and one day we’d get it right
but all you ever did was disappoint me over and over again
but this last undoing of us is the one
and good riddance for that
because at 43, i’m too fucking old to waste my time
on fuck bois who can’t show an ounce of respect
and dignity

poetry: 2018

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I acted a fool in 2018

my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability

poesia: rompecabezas

here’s the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12198

por un tiempo eras un rompecabezas
siempre tan misterioso
siempre tan cauteloso
nunca hablastes acerca de tu pasado
aunque yo compartΓ­ de mΓ‘s de mis trastornos
y aunque me cansaba, seguΓ­ tratando
porque mi mamΓ‘ no criΓ³ a un derrotista
pero nada que hice trabajo
nunca pudiste ser vulnerable conmigo

poetry: puzzle

this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “fence”

AI generated image of a puzzle

for a while you were an a puzzle to me
always so mysterious
always so guarded
never talked about your past
even as I overshared my trauma
and while it got tiring
I still kept on trying to get you to open up
my mami didn’t raise a quitter
but nothing I did ever worked
you could never bring yourself
to be vulnerable

poetry: tribute

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I do this for them

I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity