I wrote this poem in December of 2021
I met him outside on a hot July night
he was everything I was not looking for
but it was a devastatingly short fall
and then I was lost in him
and everything I wanted him to be
It wasn’t fair to him or I
expectations that were sky high
with him I wanted everything
but he wasn’t ready to be my love king
Perhaps he was just a preview
for a future love dream come true
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
radical self compassion and grace falls from my life
as thoughts of crashing my car unintentionally come to the surface of my mind
but this happens every year in early december
the old me from 2016 still wants to be heard and seen
the trauma from her is visiting me mixed with winter and PMDD
and lack of sleep makes me feel incompetent and unworthy of existing
but I resist and resist thoughts of self harm and despair
there is still too much life left in me and besides it’s one bad day out of many
Tomorrow, tomorrow, is another day, another sunrise, another sunset
another brand new beginning
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
desperation and despair sounds like a former friend
calling me out of the blue,
asking me for numbers of drug dealers I used to know
saying it’s a matter of life and death
in shock, I tell him I’m a different person
from who he used to know
I couldn’t help him-the call ends-
I’m no longer the person he used to know
I finally understand my value and worth
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
there will be no more lamentations for what was once
scattered across my journals and notebooks
from now on, I hold my head up high
and look towards the sky
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wouldn’t visit your grave a second time once you died
you’re not worth my time, you’re not worth my energy
I’d already would be forced to say my goodbyes at your passing
due to our familial connections
and I want to be respectful to my sister and nephews
but after that I never want to think about you again
with your death
I want to bury the harm done-the trauma you caused and move on
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
Inti came out in full force today wanting to play
and it lit a light inside of me
Fierce and ready to run towards the potential
inside waiting to be taken advantage of
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
sometimes I wish you were here-
so you could share your wisdom, so you could explain your truth
I followed in your footsteps of being a teenage mom
And it would have ripped me apart to have abandoned my son
so I’m wondering how you did it-
were you full of guilt or was it because of your lack of options
how did you survive being away from your child
and go on with your life as if he was an afterthought
Perhaps I’m judging you harshly
and I don’t understand the whole story
I just want it to make sense
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
looking back on my tbr list from 2016 I think
-pretentious much-
it feels like it was a different person
who added 600 something books to goodreads
because now I don’t have any interest
in most of these books
in fact, most of these books that I once
wanted to read would now bore me to tears
maybe in 2016, I thought reading books
about philosophy and history would make me smart
enough for those I thought as evolved
and now it just disgusts me
now,I’d rather stick to poetry and interesting stories
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I had fallen in love with brown and hazel eyes
Before the disaster with blue eyes walked into my life
Those blue eyes would make me believe in love again
Those blue eyes would be the first to make me want to die of shame and guilt
and cause more trauma than he ever intended
Then again, I was only twenty
and there were a dozen years between us
he should have known better than to fuck
with a girl who was barely a woman
but carnal desire ruled both him and I
And we were tricked thinking it was love
but we were completely wrong
and he got to walk away without any consequences
While I was slut shamed and had to endure the trauma
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
Implied I was a heretic because of my tarot cards
told me I should look up some verse in the bible
that validates your suspicion that I’m breaking bread
with the devil
because of esoteric tendencies
the funny and ironic thing in your lecture
is my tarot cards never harmed me or made me feel
Worthless
and the nearest I came to living with devil energy
is the man you look at when you look in the mirror
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
while our friendship has been various shades of gray
I’d never imagined that one day it’d turn black
without an explanation
leaving me alone to find closure
leaving me in tears to find acceptance
and understanding that somehow our friendship
wasn’t meant to be
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I want to be just like you, so confident, so carefree
you never allow responsibility guilt you or bring you down
So I mirrored and mirrored you leaving my old self behind
wanting to free myself from the chains off my husband and kids
I wanna be fun, I wanna be sexy
let me fuck whoever I want
and I try but it never makes me happy
it was like jumping continuously on a trampoline of self destruction
sabotaging my chances at happiness, at success
at true self awareness
and one day the trampoline broke along with me
and I picked up my broken pieces
Dismissed the distractions and my need for validation
and I learned not to mirror you or anyone else
I finally found comfort and love in my own skin
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
when someone blocks me, I wonder what was the last straw
was is some irreverent post I posted
some salty poem on my blog that offended them
something stupid I said
most of the time I simply let it go and understand
I’m not for everyone but when it’s someone
I considered a friend, I’m stumped
because I thought friends were supposed to talk
things out when conflict occurs
I thought friends were supposed to give each other
Space when they screw up
But I guess in this instance, I must have done something
so unforgivable, so horrible, I didn’t deserve a warning
Before being blocked
And now there’s nothing I can do
I have to accept this was just a season of friendship
and move on
I’ll never know what I did wrong
and he’ll never know how he wrecked me
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
A giant pink bow comes apart and disintegrates
and my female ancestors and all of the women
on my timeline cry
tears of rage, tears of grief
we know it’s the beginning of the end
on this gloomy november day
Soon we’ll be relegated to second class citizens
soon some of us will immigrate to other countries
so we don’t end up like handmaidens
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wish I could forgive everyone who did me harm-
but something in me won’t allow me too
maybe it’s unprocessed trauma that still wants to speak-
about every single atrocity I’ve experienced
at the hands of those who said
they care for me and love me
I really wish I was better than this-
constantly holding onto these old grudges
but something in me still needs to heal
so I can stop obsessing about revenge
Life on the BPD 