I wrote this in October of 2007.
The freezing cold
hit me as you
said your last
goodbye.
No more warm
and cozy instances
of your body
entrapped with
mine.
Will I ever feel
warm again or
is the cruel cold
a permanent thing?
Poetry: Cold
Poetry: Sigh
I wrote this in 2007 when I was frustrated with life.
Indentations
of small
frustrations
wear thick
in my
thoughts.
To take them
out is what I
desire to do.
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Poetry: Small
I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.
I feel small in this enormous and elitist world
it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit
It only seems like a perfect fit
for my younger, blonder, whiter,
and younger counterparts
Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here.
Should I even try ?
When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps
Failure on the steps is what I feel here-
a place where my browner, poorer self
feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice
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Poetry : Dreams
I wrote this poem in late 2007 when I was depressed about my life. Again, instead of going to therapy, I just wrote a poem about it. Lol.
Tainted dreams
of life is what
I have left.
A career of abstract
nothingness lies
before me.
Chaotic and sensitive off springs
I must put before me.
Frigidity and
senility in my
marital bed lie
next to me.
Is this it? Is this
what is left
of my
foolish childhood dreams.
Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
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Poem: My Sleeping Poem **trigger warning**
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
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Poetry: Fence
I wrote this in 2007 about my husband. I was frustrated that he was always so guarded with his emotions and his past. I hated that I could give him my vulnerability and he couldn’t give me his. Looking back now, I should have realized how incompatible we were at the time, but my stubborn and optimistic self wanted things to badly work.
A steel and locked fence guards you.
It does its job well.
Your insecurities and emotions never
come out to play with mine.
Your past never comes out to
join mine in a game of nostalgia.
Will your fence ever open for me?
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Poetry: Veins
I wrote this poem in the fall of 2007. I wrote this one about my husband. It was a good moment but even during the good moments, I’m still insecure.
Veins of love’s
moss grow
every minute
I’m with you
Will the veins
ever run out
of moss?
Will you ever
leave me?
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Poetry: Unhappiness
I wrote this poem in fall of 2005 when I was feeling overwhelmed by my responsibilities of being a mother, a girlfriend, a student and a worker. As usual at that time, I took on too much and was trying to be everything to everyone. One trait of BPD that I’ve carried throughout the years is over extending myself sometimes to my detriment in order to make other people happy.
Feelings I can’t turn off
Quickly come in droves
Don’t know what to do
My options are few
Do I follow my gut?
And get away from this rut
Or do i stay here ?
And become what I fear;
A woman that settles
And lets others meddle
A woman with no mind
And with everything, she is fine
But can I turn off the real me?
And stay so unhappy
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Poetry: Long Ago
I wrote this poem about my husband in 2006 when we were in a rut of routine and being parents. I remember thinking how hard it was at the time to reconnect with him.
Long ago…
Passion was lost
Where did it go?
What has it turned into?
Perhaps into comfortable feelings
Of gratitude and friendship
And boring things like that
But how can we find once again?
The long lost passion
That we once had.
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Poetry: Emotions
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
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Poem of the Day: Freed
Day 31 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Rain on my pane”
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Poem of the Day: Madness
Doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. The prompt was “Unburnt Pages”.
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Poetry: Something
There is something about you
that I’m attracted to
maybe it’s your laugh
or the way you talk
or maybe how you drive me crazy
when you touch me
I know what it is
You make me feel
EVERYTHING!
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Poetry: Free
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
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Poetry: I Love You
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
Life on the BPD 