I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Sex is a work of art if you are in love-
Two bodies entwined in a collaborative rhythm
Two bodies matching energies that derive
a great pleasure
It presents a beautiful picture of ecstasy
Anything else is just a mediocre sketch
I nurture my soil with love and everything that makes me smile
Excitement stirs inside of me thinking of all my untapped potential
and the poems and stories that are yet to be written
The soil I step in is solid and I am grounded and calm
Is this what’s called God’s love?
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Halfway through 41, I am truly alone
no potential love candidates
and sometimes the loneliness threatens to kill my soul-
But I know better than to suffer through another deception
so I process all of my feelings through poetry
Hoping it’s enough to keep the romantic in me
from making another mistake
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Let’s go to war with ourselves
and speak our truth and heal unprocessed trauma within
and face our fear and insecurities
we’ll walk out with confidence and feel empowered
We’ll leave with versions of ourselves ready
to reach our full potential and ready to love
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
did you drink your water today?
did you remind yourself you’re worthy of love?
did you understand you were always enough?
will you repeat after me-
I won’t run away from or suppress my feelings
I need to face my emotions head on
or else I’ll break down
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Falsa Esperanza
you were my hope in love restored
everything I had dreamed of
everything I had wished for
and it was nice for a while-
getting lost in our love
thinking it was safe,
thinking it could be my permanent sanctuary
until one day like clockwork
you changed your mind and decided I wasn’t enough
and I was left wondering “what the fuck is wrong with me?”
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
At 5 am, I woke up and wrote a 4 page poem
about how I wasn’t enough and proceeded to crash my car
and my therapist asked if I wanted to die-
And I was like “nah, I just couldn’t reign my impulsivity in”
at least this time I got control of the car and didn’t fuck
anyone else up
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I used to water my roots with the supposed love of others
their compliments, their energy made me whole
but eventually they’d tired of being my water, my earth
my everything and leave
And I was left once again incomplete-
until one day I learned to water my roots with my tears,
my strength, my self-love
And now my growth and potential are infinite
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I used to have a tunnel vision of love
thought it could only be felt with someone
but I was wrong
love is in the trees
love is in the ocean
love is in the earth
and love is in myself
my higher power taught me this
and it’s a lesson I’ll forever cherish
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I give my pain and sorrow to God
and it lessens the heaviness in my soul
and I’ve never felt lighter
and I laugh more and feel content and gratitude
and I no longer want to die
Instead I’m excited to live
I’m excited about my wrinkles and every birthday
because I’m finally enjoying the gift of life
God has bestowed on me
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
even in our middle age, our mami still tends to us
calling us, asking about our eating habits and love life
giving bits of wisdom and encouragement
still worrying about us
she doesn’t have to
but it’s her nature to do so
it’s a habit of almost half a century that’s hard to break
it’s a tradition of an unconditional mother’s love
Life on the BPD 