I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
when no one is watching I manifest a new lover-
I’m tired of solitude, I’m tired of crying from loneliness
so I dream about him, I write about him
and I pray that he appears
and while I tell myself it’s ok if he doesn’t exist
and it’s just one of my many silly dreams
secretly I want him to become a reality
I just want to know what it’s like for once
to be loved and accepted for the complicated
Woman that I am
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
a beauty so timeless men still flock to her
in her middle age
despite society’s conditioning that women
past 40 are past the expiration date
for sexual appeal
what was it about her that she was catnip to men?
Well, she was honest upfront about the thing
people don’t like to talk about
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I want to be just like you, so confident, so carefree
you never allow responsibility guilt you or bring you down
So I mirrored and mirrored you leaving my old self behind
wanting to free myself from the chains off my husband and kids
I wanna be fun, I wanna be sexy
let me fuck whoever I want
and I try but it never makes me happy
it was like jumping continuously on a trampoline of self destruction
sabotaging my chances at happiness, at success
at true self awareness
and one day the trampoline broke along with me
and I picked up my broken pieces
Dismissed the distractions and my need for validation
and I learned not to mirror you or anyone else
I finally found comfort and love in my own skin
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
when someone blocks me, I wonder what was the last straw
was is some irreverent post I posted
some salty poem on my blog that offended them
something stupid I said
most of the time I simply let it go and understand
I’m not for everyone but when it’s someone
I considered a friend, I’m stumped
because I thought friends were supposed to talk
things out when conflict occurs
I thought friends were supposed to give each other
Space when they screw up
But I guess in this instance, I must have done something
so unforgivable, so horrible, I didn’t deserve a warning
Before being blocked
And now there’s nothing I can do
I have to accept this was just a season of friendship
and move on
I’ll never know what I did wrong
and he’ll never know how he wrecked me
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
you look lost in your thoughts
is there something wrong, something I did-
what’s on your mind that makes you silent and sad
tell me what’s going on-
so I can help lessen your burden
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
A giant pink bow comes apart and disintegrates
and my female ancestors and all of the women
on my timeline cry
tears of rage, tears of grief
we know it’s the beginning of the end
on this gloomy november day
Soon we’ll be relegated to second class citizens
soon some of us will immigrate to other countries
so we don’t end up like handmaidens
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wish I could forgive everyone who did me harm-
but something in me won’t allow me too
maybe it’s unprocessed trauma that still wants to speak-
about every single atrocity I’ve experienced
at the hands of those who said
they care for me and love me
I really wish I was better than this-
constantly holding onto these old grudges
but something in me still needs to heal
so I can stop obsessing about revenge
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
it’s election day and I feel numb and empty
I doubt my vote made a difference
in my swing state
but at least I made my voice heard
for the lesser evil
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
outgrowing old patterns is like I’m shedding my skin
And new healthy skin is replacing it
at times I want to scream and feel like I’m dying
and other times I’m fine
Am I finally close to recovery from BPD?
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
empowerment is sold as a way to heal ourselves
as a way to feel better
it’s commodified and made into a product to be consumed
in books, in self help guru from the gram
but really, it should have been something
we were taught from birth
not something we are trying to attain in our middle age
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
breathing out the past, inhaling the future
I fall into emotional stability and it’s uncomfortable
I didn’t understand or know how to live a life without chaos
because for most of my life
I danced in the fire of chaos-wildly swinging everywhere
Discordant and without direction
And now I found rhythm along with direction
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
false words fall from the lips of the supposed chosen prophets
and some people are desperate enough to believe them
some people see hope in those words in a world
that has forgotten about them
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
The way my body feels as my legs take flight brings freedom to my soul
It brings me a sense of amazement thinking of how
I went from couch potato to a woman who needs a run in the sun
to feel grounded, to feel sane
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
in 2021, I ventured from the moon and landed on the ace of pentacles
never expecting to experience a revolution of self love
never expecting to one day feel like I was enough
but when I found myself down and alone
with no one to lift me up
I had to find my inner strength, my queen resilience
to slowly lift myself up and walk and eventually run
towards the light my ancestors turned on for me
it became a marathon of healing with ugly twists
where I stumbled at times
but eventually I found a rhythm in my routine
that was conducive to my healing journey
and I learned to dance with life
life no longer happened to me as I sat quietly
and in my misery
this time I danced with life stomping my feet
loudly and dramatically
no longer caring what others thoughts of me
from that moment on
I became the heroine and my own muse
in my life movie
owning everything that happened to me
Understanding the power and magic
I always held within
had been and will always be too much for others
but it will always be right for me
What does it mean to be a kid at heart?
lean into your inner child, let your spirit once again
be filled with awe and wonder
forget society’s rules that tells you to act your age
to control yourself,
who determines these stupid conventions and norms
anyways
sing out loud at the table, dance in your office
tell a stranger you’re glad they exist,
run in a field of flowers and giggle
lean into your inner child, let your spirit once again
be filled with awe and wonder
Life on the BPD 