I wrote this poem in March of 2021
I was your short term adventure of lust
you tried to disguise as love
It was fun for a while
while we were both in denial
until you got tired of me and left
My broken heart, I had to atone
I don’t know how to go on
everything feels so wrong
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?
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
I wrote this in February of 2019.
out of the most depressed minds comes the greatest creativity
I wonder why that is–
Is it because there are no limits in our imagination?
Is it because we live 100 lives in 1 lifetime?
Is it because we are easily inspired by devastation and loss?
It is because pain and sadness flows out of us
more easily than others and we have a necessity
to repurpose it as art?
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
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
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
I reflect a lot on who I was, who I am, and who I will be-
and I’ve reach the conclusion that I’m proud of all three versions of me
Constantly fighting my demons no matter how viciously they came after me
Constantly reinventing and rebuilding myself even when the chaotic earthquakes
of life broke me apart
I reflect on the goddess, the beast in me who always refuses to give up
who continues to get and keep going no matter how hard life tries to break me down
I wrote a version of this poem in 2005. It was about my frustration with the relationship I was in at the time.
I’m hanging on to my last thread of sanity
trying to accommodate to our new reality
I know monotony happens even in the best relationships
but this feels like the death of our love
Where did your yearning for me go?
You used to worship me and call me Godly
now I can barely get you to look at me
and when I say anything, you call me crazy
so I’m going to swallow my words
and pretend I’m okay with this charade of love
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
I wrote this poem in January of 2023.
music and lyrics have always given me a sense of home-
it’s how I’ve grown and evolved
It’s how I learned to express my emotions
when I couldn’t make sense of anything
it fills my soul with love and creativity
it makes me feel a sense of belonging in this world
that looks down on dark and tortured souls
it eases off my loneliness
that sometimes makes me crumble
and leaves me in shambles
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I could be the poster child for love fiascos-
I love too fast, and too hard-
I’m the fool of the tarot
risking everything even my sanity for love-
getting caught up in feelings and magic
being delusional that somehow it could work out
even when the red flags scream at me-
I say fuck it-I switch off the logic button in me
and go all in
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
This time it will be different-I lie to myself over and over again-
and for a while I’ll believe it-but it never works out and they always leave-
And I wonder how words fail me when this happens-
it’s a magnitude of emotions-
Intense, mega, uber, all consuming, overwhelming-
Some things cannot adequately expressed even with bilingual vocabulary-
maybe not everything is meant to be written down
it’s just meant to be felt, held intimately in my heart and mind
maybe it’s a private thing between me and the universe
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Vete de Aqui
We’ve lost our beginner’s luck and now see who we really are
two incompatible souls too stubborn to be alone
and let go of our made up illusion of love
and between our uncomfortable silences,
your distant demeanor, and my growing resentment
it’s better to close our chapter of love
before I start to really hate you
let’s end this while we can still walk away as friends
“standing firm”
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
staying sober from a lover is not easy for a love addict like me
it’s crying in bed wishing I was dead
it’s loneliness, making me crumble in a ball on the floor
making me feel unloved
and even though I have the cure with a text
to someone who’d put me out of my misery
I’d rather suffer for a while
even if it is a hell of a withdrawal
because if I’m ever going to have a healthy relationship
I need to be comfortable first with solitude
and the much needed introspection and healing it brings
Life on the BPD 