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I Talk to God

me around the time I wrote this poem
Daily writing prompt
How do you express your gratitude?
View all responses

I talk to God all the time-
when I sleep, when I wake up
when I work, when I write
when I run
I thank him for the wonderful life he’s bestowed on me
I ask him for grace when I’m petty and angry
I tell him his love makes me want to become a better mother
A better daughter, a better friend, a better me
because throughout my worst and most selfish moments
He’s given me signs of his love
with the people in my life
with the joy and happiness I find
with the light he shines on me in my darkest moments

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Poesía: Quisiera

Here is the English version of this poem:

Poetry: Could I Be The One?

Quisiera ser la pasion detras de tu inspiración
que te hace escribir mil poemas de amor
Quisiera ser tu amanecer que despierta lo mejor en ti
Quisiera ser tu calma después de la tormenta de la tragedia
Quisiera ser el gran amor de tu vida y una de tus razones de vivir

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Poetry: Delusion

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

facts

Delusion is believing this time it will be different ,it’s believing he’s not like the others and really gets you
It’s believing him when he tells you he loves you
when you know how this story always ends
Everything will be fine until one day it’s not
and within a few days
You go from lovers to strangers

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Poetry: The Cure for a Broken Soul

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

The cure for a broken soul is finding love and validation
within yourself
It’s finding beauty in the ordinary
It’s finding joy in the mundane moments of life
The cure for a broken soul is finding faith and hope
in the most trying of times
and accepting the darkness within you is temporary
and not everything deserves your energy
The cure for a broken soul is acceptance and love
from the universe, the source and God

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Poetry: Making Amends

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

me in June of 2022

I’m making amends with lovers and friends who’ve hurt me
holding this much resentment in feels heavy
And I’m tired of being a slave to past grudges
it feels like an eternal emotional blockage
So I’m filled with empathy and forgiveness
For those who’ve made me feel worthless
Because enough is really enough
and I’m tired of being fueled by hate
I wanna now be fueled by love

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Poetry: The Volcano

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

me in June of 2022-I was feeling fiery that day

The volcano that lived inside of me
is ready to erupt and about to ruin everything
my explosive anger cannot be reigned in
this intensity is a consequence of my BPD
and it will cause my lover to flee
the lava of me will make him wary
and once again, I’m left
in the desolate land of lonely
wishing away the volcano inside of me

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Poetry: The Fatigue of Life

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

Feeling the fatigue of life makes me want lay down
in an endless sleep-
Some people call it suicidal ideation
I call it relief from grief-
But that’s when I use all of my coping skills
write sad poetry, or write a gratitude list
or just allow myself to feel everything
I’m trying to escape from
and constantly remind myself feelings like this
are always temporary
and tomorrow could bring new and exciting things to see

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Poetry: Emotional Trainwreck

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

Do I sabotage every love dream
because I’m insane and have BPD?
Or is it the men I pick who easily give up on me
when they can’t save me
Maybe I’ll put this love thing on hold for a while
to enjoy my newfound tranquility-
to focus on my emotional stability
because every time I try to love someone
I end up fucking things up
And it’s not fair to me or them
to make them love an emotional and reckless trainwreck
who never knows when she’s gonna break

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The Highway

Daily writing prompt
Describe one of your favorite moments.
View all responses
me in January when I wrote this poem

Consorting with this newfound empowerment is overwhelming and lonely at times
I finally understand that never again do I have to depend on a man for anything-
and I breathe a huge sigh of relief
I no longer use them to determine my worth based on whether any of them
pay attention to me
I no longer use them for validation and no longer make myself small
for their ego
I now determined my own self worth and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for
since the age of 15

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Poetry: But wait, don’t go

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

me in June of 2022

Could you spare me some validation and affection,
so I can feel like a real person?
I thrive on the love and attention of lovers
I don’t know how to feel whole or enough by myself
And admitting it is so embarrassing
But wait, don’t go…
Fuck it! I’m done with this life of dishonesty
here comes my brutal truth-sorry if it bothers you
but I’m done reigning it in for the comfort of others
I’m clingy and melodramatic with emotional warts and all
and even though my truth scares off everybody
At least now I’m free to embrace and love the real me

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Spring

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite season of year? Why?
View all responses
me in Spring

Spring, I hope you bring creativity and love
I hope you bring a brand new season of a healthy and calm me
I hope you bring to the forefront my beauty within
I hope you bring a happiness unknown to me
I hope you bring a new sense of serenity

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Poetry: Unknown

Aqui esta la version en Espanol:

Poesia: Tardes Remordimientos

remorse and guilt eat him up inside
thinking of everything that could have been
the family he could have had
if only he hadn’t allowed his fear and pride
control him and make him choose safety
over an unknown destiny he still wonders about

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Poetry :Religion

I wrote this poem in January of this year

Me at open mic on 6/7/23



My lack of worth of self-esteem allowed me to accept
not even the bare minimum from lovers
as long as they showed any interest in me,
any sign of wanting me, I’d give them my energy
made them the muse of my poetry
put them on a pedestal where I worshiped them like a deity
and made what I mistook for love my religion
thought each one was the one because of my inability to find self-love
it was the version of me who thought the world began and ended
with the love of a man
It was the version of me who didn’t know that alone
I had always been whole, I had always been enough