I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
saliva drips from my month as a gentle desire overtakes me
tacos de carne asada with onions and cilantro in front of me
he knew exactly how to start melting the jaded and bitter bitch in me
he knew how to lure out the romantic in me who’s terrified to start anew
and while to some it may seem like a simple gesture
he knew that to me it meant everything
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I summon success and wealth
I summon good energy
I summon letting go of unhealthy patterns
I summon a life without grief and strife
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I never would change
I find you
I need you
Hey wake up
You can’t be here
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
Downloaded hinge to become unhinged
the fountain of inspiration was waning
and I needed a dose of new character energy
even if some of those characters are icky and shady
even if some of those characters annoy me
I can’t keep writing about the same old repetitive stories
reheating old trauma for the purpose of making art
after a while, it gets exhausting
after a while, it makes no sense since I’ve forgiven them all
and honestly, I can’t do another 4 years of Trump
Celibate and devoid of any romantic energy
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Faith found me one day
and told me to keep going when I didn’t want to
Faith made me believe in GOD when I wanted to fall
into the abyss of depression
Faith held me as I cried endless tears of my about
my latest life’s catastrophe
Faith loved me when I couldn’t love myself
Faith brought me people who believed in me
When I couldn’t believe in myself
Faith decided to one day bring it’s accomplice
HOPE
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I am a witch and sometimes a bitch
if you’re lucky
You’ll see the sweet side of me where I’m your real life magical wet dream come true
If you’re unlucky, you’ll meet the BPD me
the worst bitch you’ll regret meeting in your entire life
because if you treat me badly, I’ll make sure
you’re laugh at when I read a poem about you
at open mic
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
I manifest a new boyfriend
he’s a poem in the making
he’s someone I’ll meet unexpectedly
He’ll come when the marigolds sprout
and spring is here
He’ll be brave enough to try me on
after I trauma dump
he’ll be my new spring waiting
to bloom with me
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
we lie to ourselves continuously about our needs
to save face, to avoid conquering our fears
to not feel insecure
we’ll tell ourselves we are better off alone and independent
when in reality as humans
we are meant to be social
we are meant to share ourselves with others
but it’s cooler to say, “I’m good with my solitude,
I’m my own best friend”
because deep down inside we don’t want to get hurt again
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
subtitles jump from my phone screen violently
one of the few films from 1950’s mexico
that address domestic violence
one of the few films to portray the man
as the crazy one
but instead of him going to prison
for his many crimes against his wife
he ends up locked up in a monastery
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
before I was diagnosed with BPD, I was very sick
I wished and wished to be anyone else but me
I really wanted to be a middle class white woman
the kind who grew up with 2 parents in a 2 story house the kind who never had to assimilate to fit it
the kind who never had to to fill out a FAFSA application the kind who was never neglected
and whose feelings were always validated
the kind who writes stories or poems about her favorite horse instead of stories or poems about constantly feeling like a stranger in your adopted homeland
the kind who is mostly respected by men
and not fetichized or called exotic
the kind who’s never had 2 jobs to survive
in this capitalistic society
before I was diagnosed with BPD,I was very sick
I wished and wished to be anyone else but me
but three years into recovery
I’ve healed and wouldn’t want to be anyone else
because while it’s true that many people don’t struggle as much me everyone (even middle class white women)
still have their own set of insecurities and trauma
I know nothing about
I’ve learned I need to focus on myself,
feel gratitude for everything I have
as I reach my goals and chase my dreams
and most importantly
I now love and embrace who I’ve been,
who I am, who I will be
I no longer play a game of envy
and view myself as a broken mess
of who I’ve been or what’s happened to me
I was never those things
I’m a beautiful mosaic of everything
I’ve endured, experienced and lived
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
Listening to my writing playlist while high
a lot of songs about men begging the women
to come back
Interesting
It is a hidden fetish, fantasy I had
a man continuously
suffering for me
regretting the day they fumbled me
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
what if the colonizer in me took over
and I declared manifest destiny on every man
I fancied, even if he was taken
what if I didn’t care about the other woman
and was a completely selfish bitch
and become an expert homewrecker
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
His love made her glow
she shone, shone, shone
it was her happy ending
after a lifetime of misunderstanding
it was the sunshine she needed
after so many sad ballads
it was beautiful,it was lovely
it was the ultimate love story
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
Cowboy with your boots and maga hat
Stay away from me
forget I ever existed
forget that once upon a time
I was your wendy to your peter
forget I always flew to you
when you texted me
I wrote this poem in March of 2025.
longing to escape responsibility of my suburban life
I became 21 again and did drugs and fucked stranger men
I never meant any harm, I just wanted to know
what it was like to not be looked
at as someone’s mother, someone’s wife
Life on the BPD 