I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’ll leave an emotional stain on your life that will be hard to get rid of
You’ll curse the day I was born
You’ll regret the day you ever meet me
because I demand respect, because I’ll never be your safe place
because I’ll say “no” to being relegated to the role of mistress
and you’ll accuse me of being crazy and narcissist
just because I wanted to be treated with dignity
just because I want to be seen as more than another girl to pass the time with
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
it’s not romance, it’s harassment
placing me on your dream girl altar
and telling me about your boner
Even after I told you no
But then you still threw me your delusional love
and when I was honest right away
and I told you “I’m sorry but no”
somehow now I’m a crazy bitch,
a stranger
who’s letting her mental illness talk for her
after calling out your misogynistic behavior
All I said was no to you and the insults come on cue
I warned you, didn’t I and now foul, you cry
I told you I wasn’t ready for what you had to offer
but you kept playing the part of my great admirer
and maybe I’m fucked up in the head
but your fantasies I needed to behead
I needed to keep myself safe from men like you
who try to bully me into loving them
into giving in because your endless attention
and compliments
haven’t you read my story?
I’m not no longer a woman who bends and bends
to man’s thirst for me
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I’ve walked through the warzone of my love life long enough to know
when a bomb is about to explode (when I fall of some guy’s dream girl altar)
It’s a minefield full of suppressed feelings
consequences of accommodating to a man’s ego
And I’ll tread ever so carefully
I don’t want to be alone, I just want to be loved,
I’ll bend and bend until you call me Gumby
Except I’m not and then I’ll snap and another bomb will go off
“You’re crazy,” you’re dangerous” “ I don’t recognize you”
all for expressing my feelings and wanting respect and dignity
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
to inhabit and exist in my body is exhausting
it’s constantly being in fight or flight mode
constantly waiting in hypervigilance
for the next atrocity from this administration
wondering if my son will make it home today without incident
worrying if my parents or brother will be taken away by the American Gestapo
lighting candles and praying on my rosary for my family’s safety and my sanity
try my best to function as democracy is falling and continuously reminding people
yes, immigrants are human beings and deserving of respect and dignity
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
In therapy I’m supposed to write about the last thing that cause me grief
and I think it’s funny considering the tons of poetry and journal entries
I’ve written about it
I’m tired of writing about it, I’m tired of talking about it
I’m tired of thinking about it
and I want to tell my therapist I don’t have homework for this week
but this is part of therapy
this is what I need to address the unhealed trauma within
so I’ll write for the 1000th time about the last thing that caused trauma and grief
hoping my therapist will provide valuable insight on how to let go of it
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
one day I’ll give my testimony of how I burned down to ashes
and resurrected from them
and wrote my powerful chapter called empowerment and love
and how the worst of me had to happen in order for me
to to become the powerhouse in front of you
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
I believe in second and third chances
because more often than not
I’m the one who’s written off
because more often than
I’m left after the first time I fuck up
because more often than
I’m expected to be almost perfect
and this weighs on me heavily
but it’s my cruel reality
so I’ll give a second, a third, even a 4th chance
because I believe people can change
because I accept people for the humans they are
because even if my benevolence burns me at times
at least I don’t commit an emotional crime
cause judgment without compassion
makes one an inhumane and callous
I wrote this poem in May of 2019.
And so she self medicated
with sleeping pills, alcohol
and Almodovar films
she wanted to drown out
the feelings of worthlessness
within her
she was exhausted
from repeating the same lust story
she needed just for today
to numb out her feelings,
to escape the fire in her brain
that burns with self-pity and self hate
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
I’m the girl who screamed wolf in love in my poems one too many times
always acting like I’m the victim
always acting like I’m the hurt party
always acting like I’m fucked over in love when the truth is
I too have broken hearts
I too am shit at relationships
I too dispose of men once they fall off from my pedestal
and so perhaps, I need to stop screaming wolf
and accept that every once in a while
I am the wolf who’s capable of destroying and disposing of people as well
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
I need to exorcize you and you out of me before I step into a new chapter of love
It’s not fair to him to allow past chapters to haunt me and make me question my sanity
and maybe that’s ghosting you and sharing our story of toxic love in spanish
and while my methods may be a tad questionable
it’s the best I can do for now and for me, it’s enough
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
you creep into my dreams once again and I hate my brain for it/can’t it understand there’s nothing left to say/there’s no need for closure/this distance is better for both of us/besides there’s no coming back from this
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
can’t seem to get away from my demons no matter how fast i run,
no matter how healed I claim to be
they always haunt me in my dreams, or when I’m at my most vulnerable
and happy thinking life might finally be going right for me
But out of the blue, my new boyfriend annoys me,
unexpected bills show up, my stalker is back and creeping on my blog,
and I fight with my teenage son
I wonder what did I do to piss off the universe this time
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
I punish the men in my life with silence
I learned it from my mom
she’d last days without saying a word to my dad
after a fight
always waited until he broke down and apologized
she always needed to win
and while I’m not as brutal as her
I need to protect myself when a man makes me feel
like I’m not good enough, like I’m a monster
so I walk away calm and give a silence so deafening
they’re ask a million questions why
they’ll search answers in between the lines
of the posts I write
and if they’re smart enough and get the hint,
they’ll stay away from me
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
it found me on a tuesday afternoon, inspiration for a book
a poetry book of sorts telling my life story
and while this has happened many times
I pray this one sticks because I have all of my material
in my google docs
at the very least, it’s given me inspiration as to where
to go next
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
The first and last time I tried to die
I tried to get everything right
I wrote letters to my loved ones
and swallow each pill one by one
All that was easy enough
but really dying was tough
Something inside me was too stubborn
And sent one last text out to a friend
who alerted my husband
Between her and him, I never reached my end
but in that moment
I understood the suicidal writers and poets
Living is exhausting,living is agonizing
I yearned for the sweetness of death
to take away my mediocre breath
But the universe or God had other plans
And today I finally understand
Living is painful,living is terrible
But living is also beautiful
and really living is admirable
Life on the BPD 