I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have done the work-
I loved you more than enough to change, to accommodate
to make compromises, to share my vulnerability with you
but you weren’t ready to match my efforts
and love only grows when two people are ready to evolve
aqui esta la version de este poema en espanol:
Poesia: Cansada
you’re running out of time to give me a place in your life-
and I’m running out of patience and love to keep waiting
Were your promises lies to keep me by your side?
were your words falsehoods to keep your place as my savior,
my hero who loves to save me from myself?
a hero who’s really a coward- too scared to make a commitment
as my permanent lover
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I bet now months go by and he never thinks of me-
maybe he does when he sees a crazy bitch on his feed
he’ll remember me for a moment
and think “damn, I dodged a bullet”
and then he’ll scroll on to something else
that’s way more interesting
here’s the english version of this poem:
poetry: Counterfeit
de amiga a mi peor enemiga-
Fuiste una lección de confianza destruida
una oveja blanca fingiendo ser mi amiga
cuando en realidad eras una culebra disfrazada
quizás fue tu envidia o inseguridades
que te hicieron traicionarme
Hablando pestes de mi con nuestra colegas
exagerando mis aventuras amorosos
para hacerte ver como una santa en comparación
¿Te dio satisfacción destruir mi reputación?
y 20 años después te desenmascare
y todos sabrán la verdad, mi querida Merissa
con este poema, llego tu Karma y mi venganza
Share five things you’re good at.
1. Taking Selfies
2. Wearing sweater dresses
3. Dancing while driving
4. Bringing joy to the office
5. Bringing big Peruvian Queen energy
everywhere I go
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up
“standing firm”
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I try my best to take delight in my life and enjoy everything good
but fuck it, if I have to be honest with myself-
sometimes the depression gets the best of me
and I drink and write sad and pathetic things
about how I want to cut my wrists and watch the blood leave my body
maybe I’m just embracing the cliche of being a tortured artist
or my darkness needs a place to fucking go-
at least I’m now acknowledging it instead of suppressing it-
and I almost spiral into a cycle of self loathing
but instead say “fuck it- this is who I fucking am sometimes”-
An emo girl caught up in her trauma and hormones-
Wait-how did this poem turn into–
Oh yeah-the prompt delight
well whatever this is its the best drunk and depressed me has to give
to my creativity tonight
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self-
And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity
and vulnerability
I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic
so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity
in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience
And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless,
Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
4/24/23
I wrote this poem inspired by a coworker who pretended to be my friend while stabbing me in the back. She also gaslighted me about the whole situation when I confronted her. She also accused me of neglecting my oldest son when I went back to college and told me, “you be like other Hispanics and just work hard” . I left this workplace shortly after. All I can say is don’t trust March Pisces from Gainesville. Lol.
with this pen in my hand your reputation I’ll disband
20 years later, it might seem like an overreaction
but the trauma you cause still causes me turmoil
it’s time to let the the world know
what kind of person you really are
pretending to be my friend and have my best interests at heart
but behind my back you made me the subject of gossip among our colleagues
and this almost broke me apart and caused deep seated racial trauma
Were you jealous of me or were you projecting your insecurities?
I hope one day everyone sees past your bullshit
And realizes you’re the biggest counterfeit
2004
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
healing is chaos and calm intertwined with diving timing
because after almost falling of the cliff of insanity
and wanting to end it all
a light flickered inside of me to push through-
that light was sometimes my anger, therapy, poetry
or my friends encouraging me to to move forward
to continue on my path of self discovery
and a year later-
I no longer care about why someone’s love wavered
or why someone treated me like shit
all i care about is vibrating to the version
of my highest and healthiest self
I care about intentionally setting fire to the path
of personal and professional success
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
for a long time I had given up on love-
thinking why should I even try
If I screw it up each and every time
but lately I feel myself lighter, happier-
and full of hope
that even after my disastrous love history
That’s still a world of romance left to experience and explore
There’s still more muses to write poetry about-
my love story didn’t end with an electronic pink slip
or being blocked from my whatevership
my love story will start over again
with someone who’s brave and strong enough to handle me-
and can’t imagine his life without me
Life on the BPD 