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
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
man sets himself on fire for gaza
woman murdered just for existing
babies starved to death for being born Palestinian
young adult dies at dorm of the local university
collective grief rattles our communities
don’t know what to make of so much loss
happening within a matter of days
all we can do is hold on to each other
as senseless madness and violence takes place
all we can do is tell our stories
build our sanctuaries within each other
remind ourselves of our warmth, our humanity
when the world is heavy with cruelty and toxicity
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport
fast castellano coming from everyone
with cumbia in the background
machu picchu advertisements everywhere
my mind is trying to process everything in real time
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors
land that I haven’t seen since the age of 9
and didn’t fully appreciate it
happy and completely elated
euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones
to my skin
I never thought I’d see it again
poverty kept me away but I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
my beloved Perú
the land I left without consent
the land I was taught to menospreciar
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
and I can’t wait to get reacquainted with you
mi tierra-once again
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
I still watch our video, we were so cute together
(sends pic of us naked in bed)
your pussy is fire
I’ll wait for you until you change your mind
I guess loving you is a crime
these are the things said to me by the men
I send to block island
exes and lovers who continuously disrespected me
and never could listen to my no
or respect my boundaries when we tried to be friends
one of them I had to threaten to expose with the story
Of how I broke his dick
the rest made me feel a deep sense of guilt
and covered me with toxic shame for letting them
near me
and I yell at that sick version of myself asking her
“What the fuck girl, what was wrong with you”
she responds, “I was mentally ill and impulsive,lol”
and I try to find forgiveness for all of us
trying to not victimize or villainize but the fire of anger
rises up and I hate them and me
for ever exchanging energies with them
the only lesson learn in this is
be careful, be wary of the nice guys
the guys who talk a big game about respect
and still make you an object of their obsession
they’re the ones most likely to break you apart
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
on sundays I give myself permission
to live inside my head
where I build a world I can freely imagine
and play in
where only a select few I let in
on sundays, I jump timelines
from the 90s to last year to my present
writing about past experiences
that still linger in my mind
on sundays I give myself permission
to be a complete hermit
with only my playlist, my pen,
and my paper to keep me company
here’s the Spanish version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11875
petrified, frustrated, and stagnated
drowning in a sea of disillusionment
thanatos finds me and whispers in my ear
“come with me and your pain will disintegrate”
and the temptation to follow him is great
I hate living in such a terrible and inhumane
world
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
Copy and paste, copy and paste, copy and paste
Partners, unhealthy love patterns, delusions of love
it happens over and over again
And I try my best to change this narrative
and sometimes it seems to work
but most of the time it was me denying what’s in front of me
A man who treats me like his inferior
Allowing him to step on my boundaries
trying to keep myself small enough so he doesn’t leave
and I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened to me
And I’m fucking tired of it
So I put a pause on love for a while
Until I can figure out how to produce healthy love energy
And ensure I don’t settle again for anyone
who treats me less than the majestic and magical queen that I am
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame
even if logically I know it’s not my fault
and I was just standing up for myself
I’m still recovering from being a nice girl
I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you
when toxicity was served on a platter of love
I’m still recovering from compromising
my values and my true self
for the comfort of others so they’d stay
I’m still recovering from the most toxic
story I ever told myself when it came
to measuring my worth by how
others judged and perceived me
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
what is it about poets and writers I find so attractive
maybe it’s how they play with words
that makes me yearn to become their muse
maybe it’s their expression of passion
that makes them the object of my obsession
maybe it’s because their creativity makes
me want to make poetry with their bodies
this poem is inspired by the 2006 “acknowledgement”.
a wolf in sheep’s clothing got to me
he pretended to be my friend
with endless compliments and fake empathy
Until one day I found out who he really was
a liar ,a psychopath
and I called him out and blocked him
from my universe when he said he didn’t do no wrong
when he said, he just liked his “privacy”
and offered no apologies after a decade long lie
which added to my trust issues
but at least it opened my eyes
enough to kick him out of my life
and while I still make poetry out of him
(he gave me too much material to ignore)
I’m grateful he’s out of my life
life is too short for entitled Brads, Chads,and Kens
who think that just because of their privilege
they can get away with ANYTHING
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
it’s the wild wild west inside my head
it’s where my demons decide to come out to play
they dance with traumatic memories
making my fears and insecurities come out to the surface
it’s the wild wild west inside my head
being insane becomes my personality and aesthetic
scaring away any potential love candidates
it’s been a long time since I held someone’s hand
much less been in someone’s bed
It’s the wild wild went inside my head
And I wonder when will the demons get tired and leave
so maybe one day I’m not so jaded
so maybe one day I give someone the chance
to take me out on a date
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
love ties me up and binds with a rope of shame
slowly I fade away until I’m nothing
I don’t recognize who I am
Friends tell me I’ve changed
I tell them they’re crazy
messages appear in dreams
I’m living a fake life
who am i? who am i? who am i?
this poem was inspired by this silly poem from 2006 called, “A poetic tale”.
it was another boring night at work
I was stuck on aisle 10 between stocking
and my racing thoughts
a 90s dance song comes on the speaker
and just when I’m about to sing
I heard footsteps behind me
I turned around and there he was-
my favorite customer
5’10 ,curly black hair, full red lips
and a body built by some Greek God
he was looking at pots and pans
I quickly turned my back to stock the tupperware
and sneaked glances and admired him from afar
hoped he didn’t notice me in my Kroger garb
I looked like too much of hot mess to flirt
but still my dead and jaded heart was resuscitated
and my imagination took flight
as fantasies of him surfaced to my mind
and just as I’m imagined our first kiss
he approached me, -OH NO!
of course he asked for a specific type of pan
we didn’t have
I told him no and apologized
in my best customer service voice
and he told me “no worries”
as his voice cracked and walked away quickly
and I wondered, am I imagining things,
or is he also attracted to me?
I wrote this poem in January of 2024.
Open mics, family, karaoke nights, dance parties,
Tarot readings, poems written on sticky notes,
Epiphany after epiphany about how I have always been worthy,
Long conversation about life in coffee shops,
Trips to my dad’s hometown, sharing silly verses with friends
making dumb videos, coffee cups that say main character energy
dancing in car while I drive, taking picture of the moon
and everything else that brings me joy,
and every single experienced Ive lived,
every single person I’ve loved
is what my life’s purpose is about
It’s joy,hate, love, anger, empathy, envy
it all brings purpose to my wretched everyday
existence
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
Life on the BPD 