I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I make breakfast for me and my lover as he looks at me
he’s surprised i know how to cook
I’ve deceived him, lied that I didn’t know my way around the kitchen
I didn’t want to ruin my bad girl image
but for him I’ll uncover my domestic side, my feminine side
the side that wants to take care of him
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Resignation
por fin me doy a mi lado aunque pierda mi seguridad económica
me harté de tanta hipocresía, me harté de ser maltratada por mi raza
cuarenta horas a la semana-
me harté de ser el chiste de la oficina y hoy renuncio-
mi estabilidad emocional vale más que un trabajo lleno de pendejas racistas
que nunca me aceptaron y mi trataron como la peor cosa
valgo mas que un trabajo que solo brinda ansiedad
y un dolor en mi corazón con sus cuchillo de racismo y sexismo
me amo demasiado para seguir en un ambiente tóxico
que me mata dia por dia
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
my final step in returning to myself was returning to my homeland
once I finally found my stable sense of identity I had desperately searched for
since I could remember-
I felt like Alice in Wonderland
my eyes wide open, my mouth opened in awe-
taking in the glorious sights and sounds
of my birthplace
the 32 years away from it didn’t matter
the ocean, the mountains, the city welcomed me back
Reminding me it had always been there for me to come back to
and the powerful and profound emotions I felt in standing on the ground
that saw my birth and early childhood
made me understand there really is no place like home
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I used to be an expert at throwing my own pity parties
I drew a chalk line of the outline of my body
and called myself the victim of my life
It was before self-awareness kicked in,
it was before radical honesty
it was comforting to drown in my misery
but now, if I feel myself treading in a sea of self-pity
I look back on all of the progress I’ve made
and all of the healing I’ve done
and am reassured I’m not a victim anymore
I never really was
I was always a diamond buried under a mountain
of mental illness-and now I shine
with the queen energy that took me a long time
to uncover
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
my soul commands me to slow down and listen in silence to what I need
It tells me to not suppress anything-even it looks angry
another mean and petty poem appears
it’s okay, it’s shadow self needing to be seen
it’s a part of my identity that doesn’t define me
my soul tells me I’m not worst or best moments
I’m more complicated than that
I’m a woman full of trauma search for the calm in the chaos
that is her life
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
staying sober from a lover is not easy for a love addict like me
it’s crying in bed wishing I was dead
it’s loneliness, making me crumble in a ball on the floor
making me feel unloved
and even though I have the cure with a text
to someone who’d put me out of my misery
I’d rather suffer for a while
even if it is a hell of a withdrawal
because if I’m ever going to have a healthy relationship
I need to be comfortable first with solitude
and the much needed introspection and healing it brings
Aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Solo y Agotado
another illegal dies under suspicious circumstances and no one cares
or mourns him,
some even comment on how he should have stayed in his country-
and it’s hard to understand the inhumanity, the hateful rhetoric
Is his life worth less because of his ethnicity and immigration status?
I wrote this poem in november of 2022.
the chaos within won’t let me sleep, won’t let me be-
I worry and worry and worry
about my kids, my bills, my productivity
and I fall into the purgatory of what could have beens
and of my many lost dreams
and disappointment and depression covers me
There was so much I wanted to be
I am the opposite of the American Dream
a woman dependent on her husband
a woman stuck in the depths of her insecurities
and anxiety
who longs to escape from this self imposed
stagnant mediocre reality
Life on the BPD 