Aquí esta la versión en Español:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/08/08/poesia-desgraciado-2/
Perhaps I’m crazy,
Perhaps I’m dramatic
But I must say
You’re a traitor
for what you did to me
Causing me so much heartbreak
and misery
Pretending to “love me”
Behind your “nice guy” disguise
was really an asshole
who lured me with sweet lies
into a web of treachery
and infidelity
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from this even if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it:
I wanted to sleep
Sleep beckoned me
Like a magical place
Where I could forget
Forget-
The burdens and responsibilities
Forget-
The performance reviews, the report cards, the bills
Forget-
The husband, the kids, the friends
I wanted to sleep
So I planned my journey there
Call in sick, act natural,
Take the bottle of xanax
I wrote love letters
To my children, my husband, and friends
Just in case I fell in a forever dream
I wanted to sleep
Selfishly, without interruptions
I wanted to sleep
So I didn’t have to think
About my mediocre and suburban reality
My lost dreams of greatness
My wastefulness on this earth
I wanted to sleep
But I was interrupted
By my husband shaking me
Halfway carrying me
To the couch, forcing coffee
Down my throat
I wanted to sleep
But I had to wake up
And endure the reality of life
I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about my ex boyfriend A after I had a dream about him. That love story is actually super complicated but that’s another blog post.
The light falls on his eyes for a few minutes
And I see the flecks of green in them
But what I really see is a different life
I see the life that could’ve been mine
I see the kids we never had
I see the us that was and couldn’t be
But mostly what I see
Is a world full of remorse
Because of adolescent lies and pride
That made us say
Sorrowful goodbyes
Goodbye Hazel Eyes
And the almost happy future
Held in them
I wrote this in 2004 and revised it recently. It’s not based on anything from real life.
They’re driving back from the theater. All evening he’s been quiet and she wonders what is going on. She reaches for his hand but he won’t give it to her. She tries to look into his eyes and he looks away.She can feel him cold and distant. She no longer recognizes what is supposed to be “them”. With tears in her eyes, she says, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” he says as he’s still evading her eyes.
“Do you still love me?” she asks with a quivering voice.
“I’m sorry.I’m in love with someone else. It’s nothing you did. These things happen, I hope–
“STOP!” she yells. She’s barely holding it together at this point.
“I’m really sorry, I just want to-”
“STOP! I’m done with this. Stop the car.” she screams at him.
“You’re being crazy, at least let me-”
“NO. I want nothing from you! Stop the car NOW!”
“You need to calm — he stops mid sentence as he sees her taking off her seat belt and unlocking the door. He stops the car. He says, “I just want–”
“Fuck what you want” she says as she gets out of the car.
“But I-”
“There is nothing left to say”. She tells him. She walks away while she cries and laughs.She whispers to herself “fuck.once again”.
I wrote this in 2007 about my husband. I was frustrated that he was always so guarded with his emotions and his past. I hated that I could give him my vulnerability and he couldn’t give me his. Looking back now, I should have realized how incompatible we were at the time, but my stubborn and optimistic self wanted things to badly work.
A steel and locked fence guards you.
It does its job well.
Your insecurities and emotions never
come out to play with mine.
Your past never comes out to
join mine in a game of nostalgia.
Will your fence ever open for me?
I wrote this in 2003 about Damon who I was seeing again.
Your strange ways confuse me
One moment you hold me in your arms
The next moment you want someone else in your arms
Do you want to break our amorous ties?
Was the love you professed another one of your lies?
Day 21 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Where the stars meet” .
I wrote this poem in the fall of 2007. I wrote this one about my husband. It was a good moment but even during the good moments, I’m still insecure.
Veins of love’s
moss grow
every minute
I’m with you
Will the veins
ever run out
of moss?
Will you ever
leave me?
I wrote this in 2006.
Rising from a deep sleep
That had become our marital bed
Passion woke up
In a sudden caress
Of your rough hands
On my soft bare back
Your eyes shone on me again
With that long lost stare
Desire
Our long lost friend
Is back
To reclaim us
From our endlessly deep and dreamless sleep
I wrote this in 2006 about my husband and my husband were in a good place…meaning we were having sex again after taking a break for several months from it. I tend to place a lot of importance of sex in a relationship and well…if that’s lacking, I get bored and depressed in the relationship.
For once desire and passion
Has entered our lives once again
And the pieces start to fall perfectly
In our lives again.
Is this a dream or just another short lived memory?
He runs his hand through my back and it’s like
Electrical wires going through my body and it turns on
Something wonderful inside of it.
Whatever happened to our
rut and miserable boredom for each other?
He wants me once again and I want only him.
What did I do differently this time?
Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de John. Pensaba que a lo mejor cambaría de parecer pronto pero no fue así.
Podría ser que yo no soy
Aquella mujer
A la cual no quieres ligarte
Podría ser que yo no soy
Aquella chica
Que siempre va a misa
Podría ser que yo no soy
Aquella princesa
Que no te compadezca
Pero después de probar
Estos deliciosos labios
Nunca dirás adiós
Y después de sentir
Mi cuerpo dedicado a ti
Solo pensaras en mi
Y después de estar conmigo
Conocerás el amor verdadero
Y no te arrepentirás
De echar todo lo que podría ser
I wrote this in March of 2020 as I was reflecting on my suicide attempt in December of 2016. I don’t remember writing this poem but that could be because it was a crazy time for me since I was an essential worker during COVID.
Appearances were kept well for 15 years
the husband, the salaried job, the 3 off springs
I pretended like everything was fine
And yet there were ominous signs
I never felt like my authentic self
and always felt false
I tried on this so called suburban bliss
and mediocre routines
but knew it just wasn’t me
So I ended up in profound misery
And one day I wanted to forever sleep
To forget my mediocre reality
I took 15 numb feeling pills
one for every pseudo happy year
I wanted to slip into a forever dream
to never wake up to my false stability
I wrote this poem about my husband in 2006 when we were in a rut of routine and being parents. I remember thinking how hard it was at the time to reconnect with him.
Long ago…
Passion was lost
Where did it go?
What has it turned into?
Perhaps into comfortable feelings
Of gratitude and friendship
And boring things like that
But how can we find once again?
The long lost passion
That we once had.
I wrote this in the year 2001 after really good sex with my ex Paul. He was 29 and I was 19 at the time. It may have been the first or second time I think. He said to me right afterwards, “Don’t fall in love with me.” Man, I sure know how to pick them. Lol.
He was beautiful
He made love to me with his eyes
He made me melt with the simplest caress
He made me feel like a woman
With his beautiful words and loving touch
We melted together as one
And finally as we reached the end
We knew that as we exploded in the ecstasy
that our lovemaking brought
We are one for the other
And we will be forever
I wrote this poem in early 2006 about my husband. We have always had completely different love languages.
Emotions for you
sway from
Good to bad
Every day
And I wonder
Why “we” can’t ever be
Balanced
Instead of
the disorganized mess
that we are
Life on the BPD 