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Poetry: can’t think of a sexier metaphor
poetry: will you?
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
Will your light illuminate the dark and negative thoughts I have about love?
or will you be another one who fill me up with more self doubt
and makes me feel worthless
Will you really mean it when you tell me you love me?
or will you leave the minute I lose my shit?
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Poetry: Bragging
When I was a teen I was the girl guys hid
They were embarrassed to be seen with me
and now in my middle age men want to brag
about fucking me even if it was that one time
and while I’m not ashamed of my sexuality
I still hate this misogynist reality of
how my body and my sexual intensity
makes me fodder for men’s sexism
maybe it’s toxic masculinity
Or maybe men can’t see past my powerful sexual energy
They need to remember I’m also crazy
and when they relegate me to a sexual object
they become my subject for my salty poetry
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Poetry: So Pretty
Pretty gets me in a man’s door
but also makes me feel like a whore
I’ve been pretty sexy, pretty nice, pretty sweet
I’ve also been pretty crazy, pretty Petty, and pretty mean
men love me when I’m pretty and submissive
but not when I’m pretty reclusive
men want the pretty girl who’s fun
but not when I’m a pretty girl who’s a selfish cunt
pretty gets me notice
but also gets me dismissed
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Poetry: My Adonis
He lies in the scent
Of our lovemaking
On love stained sheets
From “us”
He lies with an
Angelic look on his face
With a recently delivered
Afterglow of new love
He lies in the freshly made world of intimacy
We have just created
He lies with eyes shut
And heavenly blood red lips
That call me baby
And I get ready to leave
With dreadful
Back to the reality
That doesn’t include
My Adonis
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Poetry: Once Again
Again and again and again
-I let you back in
You take me in passionately
and intensely
And without thinking
I’m back in your arms
And for the briefest of moments
I believe you love me
Loneliness makes one blind
To the sad reality
You just like the convenience of my hips
Lust makes one blind
To the hard truth
You just like to use
The warmth of my body
To covers yours
At your leisure
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poetry: for once
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
for once I want to be missed, for once I want to be remembered
for once I want to feel valuable and worth effort
but it’s a fantasy I need to let go of
it’s a dream that will never come true
it’s time to grow up and plant my feet firmly on the ground
acknowledge my worth and hold onto my pride and dignity
and stop chasing delusions and daydreams
aside for all of the inspiration
it’s never gotten me anywhere
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poetry: regret
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
waited for you at the bar as I downed a margarita
anxiety and anticipation sat in my belly
wondering if I could be your dream girl
wondering if this time you’d kiss me
Wondering if there would ever come a day
I’d regret meeting you
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poetry: she slips away from me
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
I’m lead to a higher version of myself after integration
it’s uncomfortable and I blush red in this latest transformation
annoyed and hate everything I write as most of it
takes a romantic undertone
I started to miss the woman-scorned and empowered
who decimated her exes
the one who came up with the clever phrase
electronic pink slip
but that woman is slipping away from me
transforming into a woman who wears her heart
on her sleeve with her poetry
transforming into a woman who’s grown bored
of hating her exes
and instead wants to be on friendly terms with them
transforming into a woman who understands
and accepts she not defined by her trauma or a diagnosis
and instead should lean into the magic of love
that lurks inside of her
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poetry: second choice
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
always second choice, a lifetime full of heather moments
the universe makes a mockery out of me
putting me in contests I never win
never being smart enough, pretty enough, American enough
will I ever be chosen?
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poetry: ancestor, ancestor
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
ancestor, ancestor-
which alcohol goes best with making shitty life decisions
ancestors says, not the PBR, not the michelob ultra light, it’s too basic of an energy
for the kind of epic shitty life decisions you tend to make
don’t reach for the margarita wine either, too obvious, too much of a cliche
and you already have plenty of them in your poetry
Go for the Guiness six pack
make your shitty life decisions with some English class
since most of your terrible decisions tend to include some asshole
whose ancestors are colonizer Englishmen
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poetry: Pokemon cards
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
desperate for attention, desperate for love
desperate to cover myself up with another soul
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
I didn’t have an identity, I didn’t have any self worth
I didn’t have any self love
Once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
to find validation in my existence
to use compliments to feed my ego
to lose myself in someone else
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
I was undiagnosed with BPD
I was incredibly insecure
I was following the script prescribed to me
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
and that was a long time ago
and now it’s been 3 years since I’ve been in a relationship
almost 2 years in my journey of celibacy
and 6 months since I’ve been declared officially single
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
and now I block anyone who tries to get near me
and want to vomit when I interact with my crush
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poesía: ira y furia
escribí este poema en Marzo de 2024.
la ira y furia de mis antepasados femeninas viven en mi
ellas me visitan en sueños y me mandan mensajes
que cuentan sus historias, sus verdades aunque duelan,
aunque algunas me llamaran sádica y dramática
ellas me inquietan y me dicen
es tiempo de gritar todas las injusticias
y trastornos vividow
que nuestras muertes no han sido en vano
y aunque lloro y trato de ignorar la llamada de la sangre
es inevitable-fui escogida-
para sus venganzas, para sus historias de redención
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poetry: self harm
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
being with you was a form of self harm
it was another symptom of my mental illness
It was me living with my unhealed alcoholic daddy issues
it was the worst version of me
trying to find some kind of semblance of love
to fill the void with whatever, even if that love
looked toxic, brought out the worst in me,
berated and assaulted me
still stupidly I went back to you and accepted you
in my life over and over again
even with delusional daydreams in the back of my mind
that if I kept you in my life long enough
eventually you’d change and one day we’d get it right
but all you ever did was disappoint me over and over again
but this last undoing of us is the one
and good riddance for that
because at 43, i’m too fucking old to waste my time
on fuck bois who can’t show an ounce of respect
and dignity
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poetry: 2018
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability
Life on the BPD 