here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: To the Man I Can Never Have
Es casi un chiste decir pero todavÃa pienso en ti
todavia de extraño
aunque ya se que me has olvidado
porque vi el anuncio de tu matrimonio en el periodico
ojala que a esta le seas fiel,
que a esta la ames de verdad
y no le hagas otra vÃctima de tu desamor y infidelidad
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Maybe it’s lack of sex or lack of sleep but I must declare-
Christopher Columbus is a piece of shit
Maybe it’s my own insecurities or maybe it’s a projection
but I must say you can get away with murder
if you’re a white male
Maybe it’s the BPD and the depression
But I must scream FUCK WHITE SUPREMACY
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Eliza, eliza, eliza
what have you done?
Entering a beauty content you have no business entering
While you’re beautiful ,confident and powerful-
Beauty contests aren’t for you when european beauty standards
rule society
it’s not that you’re less than them
It’s just that your type of beauty is only meant to be fetishized
to be fantasized about
your beauty is a temporary place for men
your beauty can’t keep a man, only excite men
So while I’ll share the link
and every now and then remind people to vote for you
Remember your worth is not wrapped up in your beauty
Because you’re more than your good looks
You’re everything
Kind, loyal, intelligent, witty, sexy, everything a man can dream of
A woman a man can really love and be loyal to
You just haven’t met him yet
Trust is the process-trust in God’s divine timing
here is the English version of this poem:
Poetry: It Hurts
quisiera matar las mariposas que siento dentro de mi
porque los cuentos de amor siempre acaban en tragedia para mi-
pero ya es demasiado tarde
no puedo dejar en pensar en ti
no puedo parar lo que siento por ti
I wrote this poem in October 2022.
Maybe I need a new love story-even if it’s temporary
so I can find relief and some peace from this loneliness
That’s making me into an insane mess
Maybe losing myself in someone else
Will stop making me feel less-
or perhaps what’s really happening
It’s me allowing my depression talk me into finding a solution-
for my neverending frustration with healing and growth
and always having to look within for what I need
But perhaps if I had somebody maybe for once, I could just be
here is the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Sponge
trato y trato aceptar esta última tragedia
entender que fue algo necesario para mi crecimiento y progreso
entender que será algo que el futuro no tendrá tanta importancia
pero por ahora soy una bola de odio y furia
lista para gritar todo sobre la traición que he sufrido
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: El Pasado
a tsunami of trauma washes over me and I regress to being 16-
as I walk on the beach where I first fell in love
as I stand on the bridge where I lost my shit and almost jumped off-
regret and guilt sit at the bottom of my stomach
and I want to vomit
Instead, I pause and count to ten and breathe
and I’m transported back to my present
I’m safe again in my body-
as I come to accept and love
the immature and impulsive girl I once was
who carelessly gave herself to others
who never thought about the consequences
and took risks
she wasn’t the atrocity I made her out to be-
she was just in a rush to live her life
Life on the BPD 