Aqui esta en enlace para la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/22/poesia-dime/
Why did you break our romantic ties?
What did she have to make you leave me suddenly?
Why do I keep repeating the same stupid story,
of finding myself the woman used and scorned?
I’m fucking exhausted with rage
always making the same mistake over and over again
giving all of my myself to another confused man
who leaves me when I’m no longer easy
I wrote this in December 2018 when my husband forgot our 8 year anniversary. I guess I was a little salty and kind of still processing the breakup of our marriage.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary
I didn’t remind him because it didn’t really matter.
Hopefully, this time next year, we will be divorced.
There was no use in feeling sad or spilling tears
Over something that would end soon.
There was no use in feeling devastated over
Something that never should have happened.
Vows that should never have been taken.
Promises of love that were doomed from the beginning.
Empty words that were never believed in.
8 years of marriage; an institution we thought
would bind us for eternal life.
So that maybe the sting of resentment and neglect
wouldn’t break us apart.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary
Just like he forgot all of his promises to
“Try harder” or “to change”
So I wouldn’t leave.
He forgot our 8 year anniversary.
And it’s fine.
You don’t celebrate something
That is already dead.
Para la versión en español de este poema, haga clic en este enlace:
Poesia: La Oscuridad
You left me in an eternal darkness
Without any compassion, without any humanity
You caused me an infinite pain
with your malicious and false ways
You left me in a world of insecurity
How can I trust ever again?
But I promise you thing
you’ll remember me
After our painful parting
You had it all with me
And now there’s no way
To recover my love
With a unique and ardent warmth
So I had forgotten to post this poem from the great breakup of 2001.
I guess it was fate
For you to cross that thin line
Between love and hate
You were really a waste of time
Now you’ll never know
How good you and me could’ve been
Or how much I really loved you so
But your love was only a smoke screen
I even thought we had forever
because I wanted to believe you were true
but I guess you were another whatever
and I was another one you’d screw
Now there’s nothing left to say
and it’s time to forget everything
I wrote this in 2017 during my great depression. I guess I was just annoyed and angry by society.
Simple decency is becoming extinct
Manners and politeness is rare
rudeness and sarcasm is the norm
Being kind feels outdated
in this narcissistic society
filled with superfluous and superficial people
Who bring their harsh and shallow attitudes
everywhere
There is no escape from this epidemic
of the nothingness
that tries to appear profound
It is a society that blames the victim
“ but what was she wearing?”
or
“He was hanging out with the wrong kids”
It is a society that’s prejudiced against
anyone different
“Go back to where you came from”
“You’ll never belong here”
“People will always remember
how you made them feel”,
Maya Angelou said
Unnecessary, weak, aloof, isolated alone
Is how this world makes me feel
I’m a FAILURE trying to accommodate myself
to this world full of shallow feelings
I miss the kind and real people
in this world
It’s rare to find them now
They are almost extinct
I wrote this 2013 about my husband.
Silence, awkward silence is what was left after everything they needed to say was said
It was the same fight over and over again.
Old wounds were brought to the surface and reopened.
She blamed him for derailing her ambitions
and he blamed her for derailing the productive and selfish life he once led.
They both couldn’t see that they were both at fault
for not continuing to push each other to flourish
but instead they fell into a complacent spell
And a pattern of a comfortable
and the fruitless routine of suburban life.
And the years went on and they had nothing to show for it
except debt and wrinkles they both inflicted upon themselves.
And the years went on and all that was left
was regret for her for the things that she didn’t get to experien
I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.
Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you
Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks
Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me
Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation
I wrote this in October of 2007.
Unanswered whys continuously haunt me
Why didn’t we last?
Why did “us” end?
We were the best love story
Where was our happy ending?
Why did our romance suffer an
abrupt and cruel end?
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from this even if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it:
I wanted to sleep
Sleep beckoned me
Like a magical place
Where I could forget
Forget-
The burdens and responsibilities
Forget-
The performance reviews, the report cards, the bills
Forget-
The husband, the kids, the friends
I wanted to sleep
So I planned my journey there
Call in sick, act natural,
Take the bottle of xanax
I wrote love letters
To my children, my husband, and friends
Just in case I fell in a forever dream
I wanted to sleep
Selfishly, without interruptions
I wanted to sleep
So I didn’t have to think
About my mediocre and suburban reality
My lost dreams of greatness
My wastefulness on this earth
I wanted to sleep
But I was interrupted
By my husband shaking me
Halfway carrying me
To the couch, forcing coffee
Down my throat
I wanted to sleep
But I had to wake up
And endure the reality of life
I wrote this in 2004 and revised it recently. It’s not based on anything from real life.
They’re driving back from the theater. All evening he’s been quiet and she wonders what is going on. She reaches for his hand but he won’t give it to her. She tries to look into his eyes and he looks away.She can feel him cold and distant. She no longer recognizes what is supposed to be “them”. With tears in her eyes, she says, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” he says as he’s still evading her eyes.
“Do you still love me?” she asks with a quivering voice.
“I’m sorry.I’m in love with someone else. It’s nothing you did. These things happen, I hope–
“STOP!” she yells. She’s barely holding it together at this point.
“I’m really sorry, I just want to-”
“STOP! I’m done with this. Stop the car.” she screams at him.
“You’re being crazy, at least let me-”
“NO. I want nothing from you! Stop the car NOW!”
“You need to calm — he stops mid sentence as he sees her taking off her seat belt and unlocking the door. He stops the car. He says, “I just want–”
“Fuck what you want” she says as she gets out of the car.
“But I-”
“There is nothing left to say”. She tells him. She walks away while she cries and laughs.She whispers to herself “fuck.once again”.
I wrote this poem in early 2006 about my husband. We have always had completely different love languages.
Emotions for you
sway from
Good to bad
Every day
And I wonder
Why “we” can’t ever be
Balanced
Instead of
the disorganized mess
that we are
I wrote this in 2006 when I was frustrated and fantasized about leaving my husband.
What if I don’t think?
About our precious link
And decide to go
Without letting you know
And let you wake up
Free of our never ending rut
What if I don’t feel your love
And am no longer good enough
And continue to fight for us
And leaving you becomes a must
What if I choose to be free
and leave you abruptly
and live my life without you
because I finally learned my value
I love you
but I hate you
I miss you
but you’re a jerk
I desire you
but your love is awful
I want you here with me
but you make me suffer
I want to kiss you
but you steal my calm
I keep you in my heart
but with you I lose my mind
I wrote this poem in 2002 about my oldest son’s bio dad. I had a lot of angry emotions about how he abandoned him.
A license to create is what shouldn’t
Be given to those who don’t know how to
Appreciate their child’s laughter
Or comfort their high pitch cries
A license to create is what shouldn’t
Be given to those who don’t understand
What it takes to be an example to
Those that descend from them
A license to create is what shouldn’t
Be given to those who leave children
In the dust to follow their own desires
Without looking back on their offspring’s
sad little face that whimpers,
“Daddy, come back”
Life on the BPD 