never understood why you took us with you maybe it was to assuage your guilt maybe it was say you really did nice things for me and my brother inviting us to an all day road trip to Tijuana in your air conditioned Blazer silent as mice and on our best behavior to not disturb you, your husband and your son it was all so strange the only thing I can remember was the messiest hamburgers we needed a hundred napkins to eat and the picture with the donkey maybe you were kind and graceful with us at times but all of that has been lost with the trauma you incurred on us I’ve blocked out and 34 years later in my middle age sitting in my hot car in between jobs I still don’t understand why you took us with you
Loving you feels like a virus I’ll never recover from I lie awake at night and thoughts of you infect me I keep saying I want to be cured of your love disease that travels from my body and into my mind I’ve tried to find the cure in someone else But for some reason your virus is resistant It won’t go away no matter what I do I try hard to stay away but it’s no use The virus that is your love is incurable Virus
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to being a princess go back to being a damsel in distress needing to be saved, maybe then I wouldn’t be so lonely but then I think of the sacrifices have to make to keep up that persona and every time it’s costs me my dignity and sanity every time I’ve ended up almost committed in the psych ward so for mine and my kids sake I’ve burned my dreams of becoming a princess again and keep on being the powerful and independent queen I am living life according to my terms, being selective who I give my lips and hips to and understanding that to become a princess again Would be a demotion to my identity
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards desperate for attention, desperate for love desperate to cover myself up with another soul once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards I didn’t have an identity, I didn’t have any self worth I didn’t have any self love Once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards to find validation in my existence to use compliments to feed my ego to lose myself in someone else once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards I was undiagnosed with BPD I was incredibly insecure I was following the script prescribed to me once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards and that was a long time ago and now it’s been 3 years since I’ve been in a relationship almost 2 years in my journey of celibacy and 6 months since I’ve been declared officially single once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards and now I block anyone who tries to get near me and want to vomit when I interact with my crush
It’s April again and it’s not only spring that is in bloom but also the creativity that goes along with it. And of course, it’s national Poetry month and every year since 2022 I try to participate in NaPoWrimo which is an activity where I write a poem a day and post it on my blog. I use prompts from this website for inspiration: https://www.napowrimo.net/ and as always I’m excited to see what crazy poems I come up with. Last year my favorite poem was a spicy one I wrote about Yung Gravy that I ended up performing at open mic.
my forever muse
Also, this year, I decided to give y’all my own original prompts to inspire y’all. Feel free to send me your poem and I’ll post it on my blog or you can just keep it in between the pages of your journal. I had a goal last year that I would post my own prompts for National Poetry Month and here we are. So here are prompts that I wrote sometime in early 2022. Here’s my contact info where you can email me or dm me your poem.
can’t blend in with this privileged world wrong age, wrong last name, wrong ethnicity I stand destined for failure on this institutions steps as the pressure to succeeds hang around me like a noose around my neck and yet I still keep going and show up every day if only to teach my kids a lesson in how to keep going when you want to quit
for almost three years I’ve been waiting for the next guy to appear as some kind of hero, as some kind of reward for all of my effort I’ve put into myself and the life I’ve built Subconsciously I did this Even as I publicly roared about being empowered on my own I still wanted someone to be my sanctuary to lay my love in And I wrote, manifested, schemed, flirted got obsessed with men were just meant to be friends Thinking, gosh, if I hang on long enough, he’ll come around this might work out but today I discovered the only hero for me is the woman in the mirror who still manages to get out of bed even on the bad days when she’s too tired to function when she’s exhausted by all of it
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
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
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
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
Life on the BPD 