aquí esta en enlace para la version en Ingles:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12061
el cielo se cayó sobre mí aquella noche
cuando me destruiste con una llamada
y por muchas semanas llore
echada sobre el piso
hasta quedarme dormida
por muchas semanas deseaba desaparecer
en un abismo del olvido
y 10 años despues todavia pienso
en aquella mañana fatal donde perdí
la poca inocencia que todavía tenía
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
before I knew who I was
I used to be oh so charming to men
always agreeing with them,
mirroring their interests,
stroking their egos and other things
and giving them easy access to me
I never used much discernment in this
my standard were 3000 leagues under the sea
So I allowed any mediocre joe who showed me
the least bit of attention into my universe
and I allowed this to happen for 26 years
making myself fodder for these mediocre and insecure joes
who left the minute I show then a bit of the fire I held within
and everytime they left, I was destroyed
and like a tarot’s fool I keep repeating this nonsense
until a few years ago, I had enough
when the last of the joes
said I was too much for him
and it was the final straw
that broke my romantic girl spirit
for a while I was touch and go with my sanity
but I rose and rose like the Peruvian diosa I had always been
and in horror I realized laying in bed with mediocrity
only damaged me, it was time to change this narrative
and slowly I recovered from the latest love tragedy
and starting writing my own love story
one where alone I’m enough and the protagonist
and never again have to tone down who I am
or hide the fire and magic that resides in me
Here’s a link to the original 2006 poem that inspired this poem:
the sky fell on me on that tuesday morning
when you ended me with a 5 minute phone call
for weeks I cried on the carpet
until I fell asleep
for weeks I wanted to fade away
into an abyss of nothingness
and even though it’s been almost decade
I still think about that Tuesday morning
the morning I lost the small piece
of innocence I had left
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
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11885
ni siquiera ha sido un año
y hay un mar entre los dos
el deseo y la pasión
que alguna vez compartimos
se fue
y caímos en un olvido
de obligaciones y rutina
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
this poem is inspired by the 2006 poem “frustrating”
not even a year has passed
and there’s an ocean between us
desire and passion once shared
evades us
as we fall into an oblivion
of obligations and routine
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
escribí este poema en febrero del 2024.
huye de mí antes que sea demasiado tarde
antes que caigas bajo mi hechizo
de mis mil y uno encantos
y empiezas a soñar conmigo
porque cuando empieces a amarme
estarás jodido para siempre
este poema fue inspirado por el poema “estoy frustrada” de 2006.
Asustada, frustrada, y estancada
me ahogo en un mar de desolación
y thanatos susurra en mi oído, “ven conmigo
y todo tu dolor se esfumara”
y la tentación de seguirlo es grande
estoy harta de vivir en un mundo
tan terrible, tan malvado,
tan lleno de inhumanidad
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
escribí este poema en febrero del 2023
Como un carnero el tomo mi corazon
y lo cortó en una docena de piezas
sin remordimientos, sin perdons
y lo consumio
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
Life on the BPD 