poetry: burning love
I wrote this poem in March of 2020.
His love is fire
And I keep getting burned by it
and even though his love burns me profoundly
Every time I get too close
I heal and vow to never see him again
But once again, his fire enchants me,
puts a spell on me
And I return to his burning love
Even when I know it means
I’ll get burned once again
Will my addiction to his burning love ever stop?
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Happy birthday to the sexiest man alive, Yung Gravy! 🎉🎉🤣🔥🥰😘
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: a lesson in dialectics
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
How many times have I lied to myself
when I was young in believing some man’s love
would save me, would complete me
when all it ever did was decimate me
over and over again
but I refused to believe love could be anything
but beautiful
Until one day I learned to be honest with myself
and it was a lesson in dialectics
of how love can be both an ugly and beautiful thing
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poetry: was I joe?
I wrote this poem in March of 2023. My reference is to Joe Goldberg from the show “YOU” and not Joe Biden( who is in his own right a monster as well.lol)
I sit around in horror-
flagellating myself for comparing myself
to a monster
I know that this was the only way to cope and process
with emotions that threatened to crush me
but if I had to be honest with myself
it makes me question the reality I was living in
and maybe the psychotic who resided inside of me
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poetry: too wild
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
On days like today, I feel too wild, too untamed
to be loved, to be handled by anyone
I feel like too much and I won’t find anyone who’s enough
and I wonder if I’ll really be alone forever
because right now that’s what my future looks like
and it’s not me trying to diss any potential love candidates
it’s me acknowledging how much of an earthquake,
a hurricane, a tsunami I can be
and even though I’ve done the work to tame my inner demons
It still feels like there is still so much work left to do
before I feel confident enough to invite anyone else into my chaos
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poetry: my anger walks in
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
my anger walks in and I feel an earthquake within
and I become the saltiest bitch
Writing poetry about anyone who’s wronged me
but then again it is entertaining
Seeing how mean and petty I can be
It’s not like I’m vindictive or seeking out revenge
most of these new angry poems won’t be shared with the world
it will be kept inside the pages of my notebooks and journals
I just need to let it out and scream
Fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, fuck the world, fuck everything
Before I take it out on anybody
before I post something stupid and cringy I’ll regret later
before I allow the world to know how I’m burning
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poetry: best birthday gift
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
He came into my life on a cold february night-
He decided to make a dramatic entrance
on my 24th birthday
He didn’t mean to steal my thunder as he tried
to make his entrance-a month beforehand
But fortunately the doctors stopped
his almost too sudden arrival
But that cold February night-
was the right time for him
I wanted to go the natural route
but he had other plans with the horrible pain he caused
EPIDURAL PLEASE-LIKE RIGHT NOW
OR I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M GETTING
THIS CHILD OUT
Within minutes he was out and once again
I was in love but this time with the life I created
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poetry: am I even your type?
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
am I reading too much into the attention and energy you’re giving me
the casual messages, the comments on my posts
the nervous vibe and the hug you gave me the first time we met
It felt like chemistry
Am I even your type?
Or is this the beginning of beautiful friendship
One that will last, one that will be healthy
Without the complications and expectations
that lust or love brings
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poetry: comfortable
I wrote this poem in February of 2020.
Comfortable will keep you locked
in loveless marriage
Comfortable will keep you trapped
in an easy and boring job
Comfortable will keep you miserable
in a mediocre life
Comfortable will keep you settling
for less than you deserve
Comfortable will find you one day
And make you swallow a bottle of pills
so you can sleep away
your comfortable and mediocre existence
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poetry: i’m finally ready
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
This time I feel like I’ve finally settled most of my soul’s score
by doing so much inner work
I still have toxic and angry moments but they no longer consume me
This year I’m manifesting a new kind of love energy
Someone who can match my wild and creative energy
Someone who values me as a whole person
and doesn’t just fall in lust with my body
Someone brave enough to love me and doesn’t scare easily
when I’m challenging and moody
this year I’m opening myself to love energy
who makes me laugh, who inspires me
I think I’m finally ready
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poetry: two miguels
I wrote this poem in February of 2021.
One was born in the beginning of the 20th century
the other was born in the beginning of the 21st century
one was born out of unplanned wedlock
one was a planned product of his parent’s love
one was taught hatred for blacks and cholos
the other was taught blacks lives matter and equality for everyone
one had misogynistic tendencies thanks to his machismo culture
the other other is that gender roles and conventions are a joke
One went through the Spanish flu times
the other is going through Covid times
both shares similar genes generations apart
both share the same Spanish name
one could not been possible without the other
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Sunday afternoon middle-aged shenanigans
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poetry: one day
I wrote this in February of 2020.
One day you’ll be a bad dream I’ll wake up from
One day someone will come along and you’ll be a distant memory
of an intense and toxic past who took over my life for a while
One day I’ll be loved by someone the way you could never love me
One day I’ll look back on our time together and regret every moment wasted on you
One day you won’t haunt my soul and mind
One day you will no longer be my muse
One day is here, now and forever
Life on the BPD 