I wrote this poem in September of 2021.
I saw my mother kill the spark in my father
He was my age with many dreams,
But I’m different,so different
No matter who or
What gets in my way,I’ll Knock them out
Figuratively or literally
to get the life I deserve
to accomplish my goals
The spark in me stays in me
and giving a determination
to keep going
and to NEVER, EVER GIVE UP!
I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
the passage of time is a bitch
That I’m reminded of
with every one of my wrinkles I abhor
The passage of time is a bitch
and I desperately want to hold onto my beauty
wearing clothes I’m too old for
and taking an obscene amount of pictures and posting them to validate my self esteem
the passage of time is a bitch
and I self flagellate for not doing enough
to improve myself
and still deal with the same bullshit day in,day out
I thought I would be done with after years of therapy
and introspection
the passage of time is a bitch
and while I could wallow in defeat
thinking of all I could have been
instead I stand proudly and declare
I will no longer sit still and watch life happen to me
from now on I’ll make the best of the time
I have left
and become selective of what and who
I give my energy and time to
What TV shows did you watch as a kid?
I wrote this poem in August of 2020.
I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP
across your apartment complex
As I was eating up my loneliness
with scrambled eggs and coffee
I hoped you couldn’t see remnants
of tears that had fallen before you came
and you sat across from me
and as we awkwardly made conversation
I wondered if you would be the one
to breathe new life into my almost dead existence
I wondered if your kiss would help me
reignite a fire of desire, would remind me
I’m more than a wife and mother
But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe
someone would finally love me
I wrote this poem in August of 2023.
Children should be seen, and not heard is one tradition I’ll never keep
It would mean invalidating my children’s feelings
It would mean for them to have years of therapy trying to find their sense of identity
It would mean to reduce them to shadows who only speak when spoken to
It would mean passing them the torch of a generational curse that makes them question their self-worth over and over again
So everyone can judge me or criticize my parenting all they want
I like my children to not just be seen but also heard
even if it’s sometimes loud and boisterous
even if it sometimes sounds disrespectful
It’s important for their emotional growth, for their confidence
and to break and heal the generational curse where children are silenced
I wrote the poem in August of 2023.
I reach out to my unhealed parts when they show up
they’re the messy and crazy parts I hide
the parts that still long to be codependent on others
and are terrified of my new autonomy
the parts that try to bleed into my present
and prevent me from reaching my fullest potential
I reach out, embrace them and whisper
“Our story will be better than okay,
we just need to trust the process”
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
Trust in love is a concept lost to me
I can’t imagine giving my heart to anyone else
I can’t imagine being vulnerable with anyone else
and it’s insanity to keep allowing myself to trust and love
when all I do is lose, lose, lose
I don’t know how to cope when a love song stops
while I’m still dancing
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
When I fall in love, I lose control, and I lose my power
and it’s painful
because now I have someone to lose
and I don’t deal with loss very well ever
and suddenly I’m all about them, them, them
be understanding, be sweet, be accepting
Be everything
I’ll go to the depths of hell and back for them
but most of the time, they won’t even cross the street for me
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
My bones did not bend back to how they used to be
after you left, they hardened, became dense
and formed a circle around my heart
And every time I try to soften them
to allow the potential of a new love in
it stubbornly refuses to soften a single bit
no matter how amazing that new potential may be
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
my exes get off easy when they leave
because they never hear from me
and while they become the muse of my poetry
I pretend they exist in a different universe
at times I’ve even pretended some of them were dead
none of this was ever done with ill intent
it’s just the only way I know how to deal
with catastrophic heartbreak
I’d rather close their chapter in my life indefinitely
than deal with some pseudo friendship
and it seems cruel and harsh
In the long run, I’m doing them a favor
Sparing them from me hurting them
in an unexpected explosion of emotions
when I can’t reign my rage in
even in the end, I’m still protecting them
out of respect for the love we once shared
I wrote this poem in June of 2023.
you’re my small town I’ve outgrown but am afraid to leave
no one seems to understand this
they’re concerned you’re holding me back
they’re concerned staying with you stiffens my dreams
and while I know they want what’s best for me
and I agree with most of what they say
How do I explain to them, it’s more complicated
than I’ve made it out to be
while you are hard to live with
life without you feels almost empty
and while it’s the right thing to do to end our marriage
so we can move forward as a family
it’s still hard to imagine a beginning without you
I wrote this poem in June of 2023.
you love me anxious,insecure, and a hot mess
and love to add fuel to my insecurities and fears
to keep me with you, to control me
and I try and try to break out of this toxic codependency
tied up in a box of good intentions
with your excuse that you know what’s best for me
when it’s holding me back from realizing my potential
from becoming the most powerful version of myself
it makes me wonder
did you ever really love me
or did you choose me on purpose to build up your ego?
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
Got two hours of sleep last night
But I still woke up with excitement in my bones
Excited about a future without you
Excited that you’re really gone from my life
Because while I loved you and had many good times
You were never going to change, and neither was I
We were on the road to nowhere
And now that we’re forever apart
We’re on the road to somewhere
Somewhere that gives us space to grow
Somewhere without the pain and drama we caused each other
Somewhere that brings us the peace and love we need
to be authentic
I wrote this poem in June of 2020.
He knows how to reach me
in a way no one else can
his tentacles are embedded in me
and it’s hard to escape
I’ve tried and have succeeded
and felt a sense of freedom-
But then
His tentacles reach out
and grab me
it’s useless trying to free myself-
He’s got a spell over
My mind, my body and my soul
He rules it with lips and his hands
And his body–
And his tentacles are encrusted deep within me–
Will I ever be truly free?
I wrote this poem in June of 2020.
She wants to get away
but her heart won’t let her
She wants to stop loving him
but everything in her
refuses to do so
She doesn’t want to miss him
but her body aches for him
He inspires a war within herself
and just when she thinks she’s won
the war and they are done-finite-over
He comes back to her with a 2 word text
and she lets him back in
Life on the BPD 