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poetry: seeds

I wrote this poem in July of 2021.

I’m someone’s psychos sexual dream come true

Seeds of resentment and anger creeps up in my throat
Men who claim to care and love me just want to control me
And me, well i’m just a weak thing, a rag doll
To be used at their convenience,
Be a nice girl, be a good girl, be a sweet girl
Work hard and play by the rules of their game
Be kind, be submissive, be sexy

Seeds of resentment and anger creeps up in my throat
And I want to be burn them all down
With my actions, with my words, with a tweet
I can’t be controlled or stay submissive
For I am too powerful, too crazy, too opinionated
To be tied to this illusion and false idea
They want to have of me
I am a bitch, a vixen, a bad ass
I own my sexuality, my independence, my life
And no one, no one can ever own m

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poetry: heroine

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

me about to pop this balloon of my self limiting beliefs

As I let go of my self limiting beliefs,
I grieve the woman I used to be
so insecure and unsure of herself
so hesitant to take control and power
Overthinking and catastrophizing constantly
it held me back from living the life of my dreams-
Jealousy and envy filled me up
Scrolling the professional and personal successes
of others on social media
Thinking, “that could have been me”
and giving too much importance to the opinions of others
wondering constantly-
“are they judging me?”
It was a toxic story I told myself since the age of 16
and it continued on and on until one day in my middle age
I exploded and decided to fight my inner critic
and challenge everything I thought was wrong with me
slowly, I learned to turn my story around
Slowly, I went from victim to heroine

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poetry: sweet and sour

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

I’m a woman of many talents

The sweetness of life has me on a euphoric high
where everything and everyone is wonderful
where nothing or noone can bring me down
And I feel like a goddess, a bad bitch, a Queen
I live for moments like this where happiness is my best friend
But then the sourness of life happens
and I’m brought down to a hell of depression and despair
Where I hate everything and everyone
Where everything weighs me down
and I’m losing my mind
And I feel worthless, crazy and like a selfish bitch

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poetry: hopeless

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

unapologetic mutha fucka

I want to scream, I want to cry
I want to throw myself off the precipice of some cliff
but faith whispers to me
“You will not always feel like this”
and slowly I begin to piece myself back together
and It’s hard at first because I don’t know where to start
Because so much in me is shattered and scattered
But somehow I know that faith is by my side
and hope will quickly follow
and I won’t always feel so lonely, so hopeless

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poetry: at war with myself

I wrote this poem in May of 2022.

Old insecurities come to visit me again,
they shake up my newly acquired confidence
they tell me I’m not smart enough and I’ll never be truly loved
They tell the only thing I have going for me is how sexy I can be
Otherwise I’m a waste of a person because of my bpd
And I try to shut it all down and not once again drown
Because I have made so much progress and have come so far
Only to once again fight an anxiety and depression war
but it’s daunting not to let the negativity get to me
So here I go once again trying to calm down my brain
from intense and intrusive thoughts by covering myself with self love

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poetry: the cost

I wrote this in May of 2022.

the cut that always bleeds-conan gray

What’s the cost of being authentically me?
not everyone will like me, lovers will run away from me
I have a hard time finding someone who accepts me
but it’s fine, it’s okay
my worth means more to me than anyone
who wants me to swallow parts of myself
to accommodate to them
because my self-esteem means more than acting
like someone else’s dream
so maybe the cost of being truly me is low
compared to the parts of my true self
I would lose for false friendships and false loves

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poetry: she wolf

aqui esta versión en Español:

poesía: loba

I’m a lone brunette wolf in a world full of blonde sheep
my exes always preferred blondes over me
I never knew exactly why
perhaps blondes really do have more fun
perhaps blondes are easier to manipulate
this used to bother me greatly,
even robbed me of my sanity and sleep
but eventually I had a great epiphany
the one meant for me will not just love how sweet I can be
He’ll also love and encourage the savage in me
he’ll know how to ride the turbulent waves of my mood swings
I’m not sure if I’ll meet him soon or if he even exists
but after this grand epiphany
I no longer care about my exes and their blonde sheep
In fact, I wish them all the best fairytale ending

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poetry: reminder

I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

from Charmin to alarmin in seconds- Noah Kahan

Dear future heartbroken me,
Sometimes it won’t be you or even him
Sometimes things don’t work out
It’s nothing to be obsessed about
Sometimes love isn’t enough
It doesn’t mean you’re not enough
Sometimes things end abruptly
and it’s not the end of your story
and sometimes you learn from it
And most of the time
it will serve to change your narrative

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poetry: hands

I wrote this poem in March of 2022.

facts

The hands of ego and pride kept them apart
They chose themselves instead of following their hearts
it was tragic to see how many lies they weaved
I don’t love her, I don’t love him
they held on tightly to their anger, went back to their safety nets
it was more comfortable to do so then to fall back into their chaos

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poetry: haunted

I wrote this poem in March of 2020.

I don’t want him to be a part of me-
And yet he appears
in my mind, my dreams, my poetry
He doesn’t deserve any amount of space
he comes to occupy in my life
And within me
-and yet he comes and stays
I tell him to go away
Stay away, and forget about me-
But it never happens that way
He consumes every bit of me
and it’s a lost cause to get him out out of me

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poetry: happy valentine’s day 2023

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

valentine’s day curse finally broke last year…

valentine’s day is around the corner
so we’re bombarded by teddy bears,balloons,
greetings with corny shit like
“for my wife, the love of my life”
and flowers, the fucking flowers
there are even journals for couples to fill out
in hope of getting closer-
I still can’t figure that one out
and stupid heart shaped everything,
from cookie cutters to pillows
and flowers, the fucking flowers
and most of us eat it all up thinking
if our partner doesn’t buy us anything
or doesn’t meet our romantic expectations
on the most materialistic of holidays,
then they must not really love us-
never occurring to us how this business of love
preys on us and our fear of being lonely
it capitalizes and profits from it
sending us messages that we need
to buy this or that (get the flowers,
the fucking flowers) to show our love
it’s a trap that followed us since our school days
maybe it’s time to riot and burn down anything
related to this dreadful holiday
especially the fucking flowers
or maybe I’m just a crazy and jaded bitch
alone on valentine’s day

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poetry: lesson

aqui esta el poema original que inspiró este poema:

Poesía: Falso 2005

we were another lesson in love lost and mourned
I tried everything to make it work
even where it was past our expiration date
I never wanted our children to be products of a broken home
but even my best efforts could not fight how different we were
or our long term story of incompatibility
it wasn’t your fault or mine
we were just both too stubborn to see what was in front of us
a friendship that should’ve stayed platonic
but you fell in deep for me
and I was tired wanted to settle
and we made it work until one day I realized it wasn’t enough