I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
you’ve change from spring to autumn within moments
never knew if I should wear my feelings on my sleeve
never knew if I should wear layers of cynicism
I’ve made it as simple as possible for you
and nothing happens
and slowly my hope of love recedes in the background
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
my exes should all get a participation trophy
for dating me, for marrying me,
for putting up my madness
for becoming muses of my poetry
unwillingly, unintentionally
for surviving the rollercoaster
that is me
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
I hope this story is buried for a final time
and you don’t pop up again
and I have to play whack an asshole
once again
blocking you on yet another platform
would the universe be kind enough this time
for it to be good riddance forever
cause I’m tired of my past mistakes
to constantly come out of nowhere
to disturb my present
I wrote this poem in June of 2024. It was inspired by the disappearance of little Latina girl in my area that I didn’t feel was getting enough media attention.
I pray for the little brown girl lost in Gainesville
the one that’s my son’s age
the one that looks like my sister at that age
the one who has my mami’s name
I pray she’s found alive
I pray that she finds warmth in her parents
arms soon
I pray more of a big deal is made out of
her disappearance
and she’s found quickly
because I’m sure that if this little girl
had been a jonbenet look alike
more would have been done to find her
and bring her back to her family
her community
that’s been missing her greatly
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
I’m ready for steak dinners and an expensive bottle of chardonnay
shared over awkward getting to know you conversations
with no expectations to put out
I’ll be a completely different woman when I’m dating again
a woman selective about who allows near her
a woman who no longer seeks validation and attention
from the wrong men
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
a glass of champagne in my hand as I raise a toast
who I used to be
a woman mentally ill and needy
a woman who gave men easy access to her hips
a woman who thought intimacy could only be created
and felt in between her sheets
we say goodbye to the his woman lovingly
as we usher a new era of me
a woman who knows her worth
and won’t settle of anything less
than she deserves
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
you could have been my forever muse, my forever thot
But like the others before you
you don’t know what to do with a woman like me
maybe my ingenuity is to blame for this
wanting to live in a delusional daydream of love
instead of grounding myself in reality
and radically accepting love is just a four letter word
in my vocabulary that wrecks and ruins my sanity
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
there are days I don’t feel strong enough to be their mom
maybe it’s insecurity that weighs heavily on me
after every fight, after every conflict
it was easier when they were small
and I was their favorite person
the one they ran to the moment I opened the door
nowadays I work much and they have their own interests
to have much to do with me
nowadays they bring up grievances of everything
I’ve done and am doing wrong
is this karma for being a bad daughter to my mom
is this karma for being selfish and self absorbed
for a few years of their lives
Who knows-
maybe it’s not about being strong, being right,
or being respected
maybe it’s about them knowing they are loved
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
three years ago, I was dealing with the most chaotic move of my life
never thought my new home would see the death of me
the princess who moved in
and the resurrection of the queen I was about to become
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
brown eyes
scorpio energy
takes my hand
I’m in trouble
warm rush of emotions
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
never understood why you took us with you
maybe it was to assuage your guilt
maybe it was say you really did nice things
for me and my brother
inviting us to an all day road trip to Tijuana
in your air conditioned Blazer
silent as mice and on our best behavior
to not disturb you, your husband and your son
it was all so strange
the only thing I can remember
was the messiest hamburgers
we needed a hundred napkins to eat
and the picture with the donkey
maybe you were kind and graceful
with us at times
but all of that has been lost with the trauma
you incurred on us I’ve blocked out
and 34 years later in my middle age
sitting in my hot car in between jobs
I still don’t understand why you took
us with you
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty
even as I’m suffering, even as I’m cast aside
for someone else
even as I’m crying and dying from grief
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about
all of the lovely and terrible things
that come with falling in love
at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons
about life and love
I’ve carried into my middle age
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
Ostracized, alienated, and abandoned for being too odd, too much
cried a million tears over the same story
too stubborn to learn from the tragic lessons sent from the universe
naively believed this one will complete me, this one will save me
it wasn’t until my middle age, I had a great catharsis and said
“OH SHIT, I AM ENOUGH!”
I let go of my damsel in distress story
wrote a new story of empowerment and love within
the pages of my journal
Wrote and wrote like a madwoman until I found peace
and closure from anything that traumatized me
come to the conclusion
the only hero I ever needed was the woman in the mirror
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to being a princess
go back to being a damsel in distress
needing to be saved, maybe then I wouldn’t be so lonely
but then I think of the sacrifices have to make
to keep up that persona
and every time it’s costs me my dignity and sanity
every time I’ve ended up almost committed in the psych ward
so for mine and my kids sake
I’ve burned my dreams of becoming a princess again
and keep on being the powerful and independent queen I am
living life according to my terms, being selective
who I give my lips and hips to
and understanding that to become a princess again
Would be a demotion to my identity
Life on the BPD 