this poem was inspired by the 2007 “dreams part 2”
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12305
nail on the coffin on the future I wanted
no prince charming
no house with the white picket fence
instead I stare down at the barrel of poverty
trying to find a glimmer of who I used to be
among my many forgotten dreams
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
last time I had my last first kiss
it was wasted on a middle age scorpio
I wore a cute summer dress with red lipstick
along with my feminine charm
I didn’t have to lay it on thick for him to desire me
for him to want to kiss me
he would’ve fuck me I hadn’t been on my period
his hands roamed almost every inch of my body
as if it belong to him for the 5 minutes we made out
while I dissociated and pretended I was somewhere else
I was numb and devoid of feeling anything
Am I even a person?
He said things about how I was so hot and sexy
and how sad it was that couldn’t screw me
And I laughed flirtatiously following the script
I’ve had since I could remember
and I felt no desire or any pleasure
if anything I was repulsed
by him, by myself
hating how even at 40,
I was still pulling the same bullshit since I was 16
making myself an object of desire for me to play with
and then something snapped in me that day
a couple of hours after that date
I sent him a snap along with all the other 7 dudes
I was entertaining and keeping as options
the same message,
“I’m sorry, I’m not in a place to date or even
to have men as friends, I wish you the best”
it was hard as I had always been addicted
to men’s attention and validation
but something told me it was time
to switch the narrative
even though I knew it would be lonely
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12220
agujas agudas de agonía penetra mi mente y cuerpo
me siento super debil
cubierta en una frazada de derrota
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
you were a dead end street
that I didn’t see until
it unraveled me
Until it was too late
and I didn’t want to turn around
and kept going
and eventually I crashed
in the most magnificent
and catastrophic of ways
and I burned and burned
until I was ashes
and rose up in the most
spectacular rebirth
anyone had witnessed
since Jesus
this poem was the inspired by the 2007 poem:
needles of agony stab my mind and body
I feel a new kind of weak
covered in a blanket of defeat
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
being with you was a form of self harm
it was another symptom of my mental illness
It was me living with my unhealed alcoholic daddy issues
it was the worst version of me
trying to find some kind of semblance of love
to fill the void with whatever, even if that love
looked toxic, brought out the worst in me,
berated and assaulted me
still stupidly I went back to you and accepted you
in my life over and over again
even with delusional daydreams in the back of my mind
that if I kept you in my life long enough
eventually you’d change and one day we’d get it right
but all you ever did was disappoint me over and over again
but this last undoing of us is the one
and good riddance for that
because at 43, i’m too fucking old to waste my time
on fuck bois who can’t show an ounce of respect
and dignity
this poem is inspired by the 2007 “veins”:
scared and desperate, I cling onto you
I learned early, solitude is a curse
and being alone is the worst thing
that can happen to a woman
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “fence”
for a while you were an a puzzle to me
always so mysterious
always so guarded
never talked about your past
even as I overshared my trauma
and while it got tiring
I still kept on trying to get you to open up
my mami didn’t raise a quitter
but nothing I did ever worked
you could never bring yourself
to be vulnerable
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
I pay tribute to the women who came before me
women who sacrificed so my parents could exist
my mami who had to leave behind her culture,
traditions, and language to give me a better life
to make sure I grow up safe and well educated
and taught me what strength and resilience means
as she worked long days to make ends meet
as she showed initiative to move our family forward
and with her example I was able to follow it
except I change it up some
to live a life full of love, community and creativity
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
always restless and wild from the start
nothing could contain me or dim my spark
leg braces, overprotective parents
it didn’t matter
I always found a way to make trouble,
to investigate,
always too curious for my own good
and too dramatic and emotional
for mostly everyone
always good at making people
uncomfortable
sometimes it’s a curse,
sometimes it’s a blessing
can’t change this part of myself
I have, am and will always
be like this
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
at 17, the pregnant bride to be got a telegram from her groom
sorry, but I’m betrothed to another and am getting married
at gun point
maybe it was the heavy feeling of rage or her aries nature
and hormones
the jilted bride with a silent fury went to her closet
and took out her ostentatiously beaded wedding dress
and with matches in her hand
she went outside and set fire to it in front of the family home
one of the younger siblings saw the insanity as the bride
stared at it mesmerized by fire that grew and grew
she walked towards it
all sense of reality gone from her
not hearing the screams from her abuela who ran towards her
and just before the bride step foot in the fire
la abuela shook her and slapped her across the face
until the bride reacted, let out a loud wail heard
across the farmland and fainted
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
I scream watching the dominoes fall once again
I don’t know who I am
I want to be this version of myself a while longer
ideally forever
but the universe has other plans
she laughs and says
“Honey, he wasn’t the one”
and I’m pissed and lose my shit
go crazy for weeks, that turn into months
that turn into a year
until 13 months later
mama killa comes to me revealing
the last piece I needed to form a stable identity
and sends me back to my homeland
where I recover hidden bits of myself
and laugh like a child once again
where I’m reunited with the mountains,
coast, and the city
where the universe tells me
“I told you so, you couldn’t have done this
with him by your side dimming your light,
you needed to be alone to embrace your magic
And find your real identity under layers
of american conditioning
and reconnect with your homeland,
it was the most important part
in your heroine’s journey to integration
Here’s a link to the original 2006 poem that inspired this poem:
the sky fell on me on that tuesday morning
when you ended me with a 5 minute phone call
for weeks I cried on the carpet
until I fell asleep
for weeks I wanted to fade away
into an abyss of nothingness
and even though it’s been almost decade
I still think about that Tuesday morning
the morning I lost the small piece
of innocence I had left
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame
even if logically I know it’s not my fault
and I was just standing up for myself
I’m still recovering from being a nice girl
I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you
when toxicity was served on a platter of love
I’m still recovering from compromising
my values and my true self
for the comfort of others so they’d stay
I’m still recovering from the most toxic
story I ever told myself when it came
to measuring my worth by how
others judged and perceived me
Life on the BPD 