I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
mami dressed me up in ruffles and pastels whenever she could
I’d swirled and twirled in my dress until I got dizzy
loved when everyone told me, “ay que bonita te miras”
and I awkwardly bowed, smiled, and hid
sashayed to every single one of my relatives
and did the same thing
it’s one of the few times I remembered being vain as a child
one of the few times I didn’t feel weird and like an outcast
external validation learned at the tender age of 8
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “small”
can’t blend in with this privileged world
wrong age, wrong last name, wrong ethnicity
I stand destined for failure
on this institutions steps
as the pressure to succeeds hang around me
like a noose around my neck
and yet I still keep going
and show up every day
if only to teach my kids a lesson
in how to keep going when you want to quit
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
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
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
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
always restless and wild from the start
nothing could contain me or dim my spark
leg braces, overprotective parents
it didn’t matter
I always found a way to make trouble,
to investigate,
always too curious for my own good
and too dramatic and emotional
for mostly everyone
always good at making people
uncomfortable
sometimes it’s a curse,
sometimes it’s a blessing
can’t change this part of myself
I have, am and will always
be like this
here’s the 2006 poem “dreams” that inspired this poem:
forgotten dreams remembered
in a bout of depression
I wanted to be much more than this
an overwhelmed mom of two
trying her best but still failing
an chaotic mess who doesn’t
know who she is
underneath the burdens
and expectations placed on her
aqui esta la version en Ingles:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11863
un lobo disfrazado de cordero me jodio la vida
fingió ser mi amigo con elogios y empatia falsa
hasta que un dia me di cuenta quien era de verdad
un mentiroso y psicópata
y me enfrente a él y lo bote de mi universo
cuando el me digo que no había hizo nada malo
que le gustaba su privacidad
y no se disculpó por de su mentira de una década
que me destruyo, pero al menos me abrió los ojos
Para que lo descartar de mi vida
y aunque todavía escribo poesía acerca e el
(me dio una gran fuente de inspiración para parar)
estoy bendecida que él está fuera de mi vida
la vida es demasiado corta para que pitucos
como brads, chads, y kens que piensan
que por su privilegio puedan hacer
lo que se le da la gana sin consecuencias
this poem is inspired by the 2006 poem, “poem for a couple I never knew”
many took bets on how long they’d last
between the age gap, the difference in cultures
they didn’t stand a chance
yet, they kind of made it work for more than a decade
yet, they still raised three fine young men for almost 20 years
and while their incompatibility caught up to them
and they had to end their love story
they rebuilt it on the foundation
of the love they once shared
and in the best interest of their children
and evolved into a healthy story of friendship
where any resentment and anger has been buried
and there are no hard feelings over past grievances
where they support one another
and are finally the parents their children
always deserved
this poem is an updated version from the 2006 poem, “she flew”
she’s gone to the other side
leaving us in a state of mourning
no tears, no words soften the emotional blow
can’t take back how we took her for granted
and now anger, regret, and remorse
becomes who we are
until we accept the passage of time
is our biggest ally in healing from her absence
here’s the English version of this poem:
congelada en su familiaridad
atrapada en la traición lenta de su cuerpo
aburrimiento y soledad le abrazaban
como un amante
se ahoga en su sollozos y olvidada
por casi todos sus seres queridos
su mundo estancado en silencio
hasta que lo vio
con ojos chinitos y azules como ella
y piel arrugada como las sabanas
de amantes
era una visión horrorosa
pero para sus ojos cansados de ella
era una explosion de alegría
su última adoración
su último suspiro de vida
ella acababa con su aroma de pureza
el comenzaba con el olor viejo de experiencia
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
my life flashed before my eyes as a fog took over my mind and body
What would happen to my ex? What would happen to my kids?
they can’t function without me
I’m the one who makes sure the rent and electricity get paid
I’m the one who always takes the initiative to better our family
I’m the one who’s trying to break generational curses
so my kids don’t suffer as much as I did
my life flashed before my eyes, and I mentally prepared a list
in my head of every one of my children’s milestones
i would miss out on if God took me now
and as the fog finally started to lift
I thanked God for his mercy and understood the message
from the universe
I really need to take better care of myself
my health can never be taken for granted
I’m too important for my family, my friends
to learn to live without me
this was my great awakening
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
another new year is here
another season of my life
will soon be renewed
more chances for new experiences
and adventures
more opportunities to fuck things up
and give fodder to the inner critic in me
to emotionally beat me up
more time to question myself
am I doing enough for me and my kids
to prosper
more moments of joy and laughter
with my boys as they get older
and continue to find their autonomy
more grief and sadness as the working class
and marginalized communities
continue to be stepped on
more memories made that ignite a spark
of creativity within me
another new year
another transformation under construction
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
the future of me is not written yet
I have to understand that
all I can do is write for her
who will still question her existence
or why things happened the way they did
or what the fuck happened to her
I know myself too well
it doesn’t matter how far I’m in my self discovery journey
I’ll always have questions
Its my insatiable curiosity
I can only hope that the future me has leaned into self love
More than ever before and still understands
she and her kids are her top priorities
Anyone else is expendable in her little universe of love
The Duartes
my family is quiet about their sorrows
they put up a mask of strength and resilience
its not that they hide their tragedies
they talk about it openly
but heal with energy from the trees,
with their busy and monotonous routines
on their farm
with the understanding that terrible things happen
in their lives and finding resilience
in the most extenuating of tragedies
in order to move forward
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence
accepting we were always meant to be friends
no longer harboring resentment about our failed story of romance
Focusing on the long road ahead of us
Divorced and raising kids in a world full of oxymorons,
in a world that will try to make them fit
into unrealistic expectations of what it means to be human
me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence
putting away our differences and any conflicts
And putting our childrens’ best interest first
understanding they’re the best thing
to come out of the failure of us
Life on the BPD 