I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I reflect a lot on who I was, who I am, and who I will be-
and I’ve reach the conclusion that I’m proud of all three versions of me
Constantly fighting my demons no matter how viciously they came after me
Constantly reinventing and rebuilding myself even when the chaotic earthquakes
of life broke me apart
I reflect on the goddess, the beast in me who always refuses to give up
who continues to get and keep going no matter how hard life tries to break me down
reopening my pandora’s of trauma makes me tear the old version of me apart
makes me revisit parts of myself I’d rather forget
and makes me angry at how my insanity was enabled
I know I should be compassionate, I know I should understand that the past
can no longer hurt me
but -oh-every time I open that pandora’s box of trauma
the fire of self loathing and rage threatens to consume me
and while I could leave that pandora’s box closed-
I have no choice but to open it over and over again
it’s one of the most important parts of my story
Emotional scars need to be ripped open and analyzed
to heal and make sense of who I am now
1/9/24
here’s the english version of this poem:
poetry: charade of love
se que en las mejores relaciones hay monotonía
pero lo que estamos viviendo me llena de ira
me esta volviendo loca,
esto se siento como el fin de nuestro cuento de amor
y los dos somos demasiados cobardes para aceptar
que la vida que hemos construida se está volviendo
una montaña de resentimiento y desilusión
donde estamos atrapados por conveniencia
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
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
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I light a candle, put on music, and pay tribute to all that I will never be-
it’s not like I’m denying myself possibilities or opportunities
I’m just acknowledging certain realities
I’ll never have the proper words, the necessary pretentious words
of the upper class pedigree to be published in one of those prestigious journals
or win a pulitzer prize
I’ll never be seen as an equal in American because I’ll always be a foreigner
and while this brings me a certain kind of grief
I also celebrate how different I am
I’ll never filter my words or fake eloquence or elegance
to make myself digestible to those with multiple degrees
Nah, I’m a mosaic masterpiece, with my bad grammar,
my simple vocabulary
and my powerful and emotionally charged phrases
I’m not and never will be for those with sensitive ears or palettes
and I’ll always take pride in that
I think one of the best things about having a family of your own is making up your own traditions. One of my favorite traditions I have with my boys is watching “About a Boy” every Thanksgiving while we wait for dinner or afterwards. I started this tradition in 2008 when my oldest was 10 and my middle son was 3. The first time we watched it we had just moved into our new place and me and their dad hadn’t gotten around to getting internet and hardly had any furniture so we had to make do with the DVDs we had on hand to entertain the boys. For whatever reason, we watched that movie a few times. I remember watching it for the first time with my boys and all of these questions about mental health my then 3 year old had and how concerned he was for the mom in the movie. It was just such a sweet moment for me. A couple of years ago, my oldest son gave me the blu-ray dvd version of the movie to upgrade it from my old DVD copy. I love the message in the movie about how “no man is an island” and we all need community from friends and family to make life enjoyable and worth living.
My other favorite tradition involves me and my middle son. I had him on my 24th birthday so we are birthday twins. When our birthday week rolls around, I decide to get desserts almost every day of the week for me and him to celebrate. Sometimes, we do share with our other family members when we feel like it. I started this tradition 4 years ago. We also always get two different cakes of our choice for our actual birthdays. I plan to keep this tradition around as long as he lives with me and/or lives close to me.
so I actually wrote this poem in December of 2022 after I got sick with COVID. This poem was actually inspired by the 2005 poem, “Here we again”- I was editing it to post it on instagram and something about it screamed turn into a poem about your ailment and this is what I ended with. God, my mind was extra crazy with COVID brain. lol.
Here’s the original poem, it’s edited from:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/07/01/poetry-here-we-go-again/
Another unexpected surprise
confirmed with the second pink line
Is this Karma coming for me?
for wishing this on my enemies
this puts a pause on my life for a few days
and I lay in bed in a fever haze
soon I lose my sense of smell and taste
I’m humbled and make a promise to the universe
I’ll be more careful with my words
and stop giving into my rancor
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
Cry in front of me and show me your vulnerable side
I won’t run away or shame you for sharing your pain
I understand what it’s like to be left alone
when you start to drown in your emotions
and you reach for someone and that person
turns you away
I will never be that callous
when I say you can be safe with me,
I really mean it
if I had a pet, I would want them to understand how to pose for the camera. My kids learned real quick and were posing by the time they were 4 to 5 months old. Also, this seems like silly prompt but whatever I’m answering it only cause I promised myself to answer every prompt on wordpress this month.
aqui esta el poema original que inspiró este poema:
Poesía: Falso 2005
we were another lesson in love lost and mourned
I tried everything to make it work
even where it was past our expiration date
I never wanted our children to be products of a broken home
but even my best efforts could not fight how different we were
or our long term story of incompatibility
it wasn’t your fault or mine
we were just both too stubborn to see what was in front of us
a friendship that should’ve stayed platonic
but you fell in deep for me
and I was tired wanted to settle
and we made it work until one day I realized it wasn’t enough
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
My heart betrayed me last night
it was on the same page that I need to put any hope of love on hold
Until I’m free of my marital ties-
Until I’m no longer suffering of any residual trauma
from my last failed romantic relationship
but in one night, my heart betrayed my mind
And it felt euphoria and everything that comes with meeting
the potential of love
And while my mind tries to reign in my feelings
My heart says “sorry, we’re already in too deep”
When I think of a good leader, I think of the good bosses I’ve been lucky to have. In my opinion, a good leader treats their workers with respect, is compassionate while also holding their subordinates accountable for their errors. A good leader also challenges and encourages their subordinates to evolve and improve. An example of a good leader is my gen-z boss at Kroger who’s always been kind and respectful to me and who has gone out of his way to accommodate to my scheduling needs when my life got crazy. He also gave and my other coworker a $100 gift card for Christmas. At 23, he’s more mature and way better than some of the bosses I’ve had who were way older. It makes me want to always work hard at Kroger. An example of shitty leader is Joe Biden. IMO, my genz boss would make a far better president than Joe Biden.
I wrote these three poems in November of 2022 when I was still married. One thing I wanted to mention about the first poem is that even though my ex no longer serves me breakfast, he’s still super reliable. For example, my car decided to kiss another car this morning (car accident) and he was the first one I called to help as I was overwhelmed. Granted, we still live in the same house but he didn’t have to come and still came. I’m glad we are still able to be friends despite the fact that we’re divorced. I think that when it comes to love, familial and friendship love is the best kind of love there is out there for me.
little reminders
little reminders of how I’m loved
greet me on daily basis
breakfast served by my starter husband
my son asking me if I’m okay
my coworker saying one of my poems moved her
the cold breeze in the air kissing my face
my favorite song playing on the radio at the right time
it’s the little reminders that give me hope in humanity
11/20/22
friends
friends provide everything a lover hasn’t been able to-
an unconditional love and acceptance
where they provide a space for me to be who I really am
they don’t care if I’m dramatic or loud
they encourage me when I’m down
and they never leave me when I’m too much
11/19/22
my community
community is my tia’s buenos dias on whatsapp
or mami’s phone calls to check up on me
community is greeting my fellow runners on my route
or laughing with my coworkers about the latest absurd policy
community is blasting yung gravy from my car radio
or vomiting my feelings out on paper or at open mic
community is everyone and everything I love
11/9/22
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
if my parents hadn’t chosen america as their new homeland
I wonder who I would’ve been
a woman of priviledge married to a man who loves me for me
or would it have been inevitable for me to turn out as a rebel who’d cause many scandals
would I have take my education more seriously because of the pressure from society and my parents
or would I have still struggled with my ADD and said fuck it
I wonder who Peruvian me would have been if I didn’t have a bilingual and bicultural identity
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I go between contacts and glasses to fit my different personas-
in my contacts I’m a pretty woman with makeup and a dress
I become the kind of woman men are nervous to be around
or get intimidated by
In glasses I don’t care to capture the male gaze or even mine
it’s when I work that second job or I’m at home
it’s when I allow myself to just exist
not caring about the pressure to be attractive
or allow my social conditioning to take over
and tell me since I’m this crazy, I need to be pretty, sexy, charming
to validate my existence
Lately I prefer my glasses, lately I want the freedom to just be
Life on the BPD 