I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/07/te-vi/
everytime I see you
I want to sin with you
you are the forbidden fruit
I want to taste, I want to make love to
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I fantasize about death after my boyfriend’s rejection
I’m so out of touch with reality, a car stops inches away from me
the driver honks at me and cusses me out
I am 15
I want to throw myself of the bridge on the way
to confirm I’m my parent’s worst failure
but a kick inside me saves me
I am 17
I want my baby to stop crying, my head is starting to spin
with psychosis and I hold him a little too tight
until my husband takes him from away me
I am 30
I’m crying while spewing nonsense
while my lover looks at me in horror and disgust
I know it’s over
I am 40
Have you ever broken the law and didn’t get caught, if so how?
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/06/poetry-miserable-memories/
regrese al mundo que me causo trauma en mi infancia
bastante a cambiado, bastante sigue igual
recuerdos de dolor, miseria, y pobreza regresaron
a mi mente
la niña miedosa y ansiosa que era me visita
pero esta vez , la llevó de la mano
y le digo, ahora eres una mujer valiente y fuerte
y las personas que te hicieron daño
nunca más lo harán, las personas que te traumaron
ahora son parte de tu pasado
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
someday everything won’t feel so heavy
someday I won’t swim in anxiety
someday I’ll find self love
Someday I’ll be enough
Someday, someday, someday
Maybe someday is today
today I see the light
today I’m grateful for my life
today I feel like enough
Today I have self love
Maybe just maybe
Today I’m truly happy
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/25/poetry-looking-forward/
sentandome en nuestra felicidad de recién casados,
le doy las gracias a Dios por tanta felicidad
vendrá muchos recuerdos que haremos de nuestra vida compartida
criando a nuestros hijos desde bebitos a adolescentes angustiados
discusiones triviales, responsabilidades, y facturas de la casa
y un día le contaremos a nuestros nietos nuestro cuento de amor
nos pelearemos de quien inició nuestra relación (fui yo)
hoy dia, soy la mujer más feliz en el mundo
en convirtiéndome en tu esposa
I wrote this on Valentine’s Day of 2022.
I fucked many recklessly without a purpose
some part of me was looking for love
it was a temporary cure when I wanted to avoid emptiness
it was a temporary cure for my painful loneliness
so I used the the magic of my body
to feel like somebody, like I was worthy
But one day I got tired of how it wasn’t enough
and found my worth and self love
I mean, sure it was fun but I’m done, done and done
I forgive the person I once was who mistook lust for love
I didn’t know any better and settled for prince charmings
when I really needed a king to match my love energy
A king who accepts all of me and not just her body
A king who wants to evolve and grow with me
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I wish for sleep to take me away to a dreamless land
but I’ll take unpleasant dreams about ghosts from my past
just so my body can get a full night’s rest
But sleep evades me,it runs away from me
like a lover who lures me with a taste of love
only to abandon me on a whim
and I try and try and try to shut down my mind
but tonight an emotional triggers hit me and trauma visits me
My body and mind remembers the adrenaline rush
of emotional and physical wounds and it scares sleep off
I wonder what to do next and get angry at my traitorous body
but I remember-trauma is complex and while most of it has been processed
There are still remnants that come out to be seen, to be addressed
And I end up here with the nightmare of insomnia that won’t let me rest
And while it’s scary I remember it’s also temporary
eventually my body has to give in and I’ll fall asleep
How does death change your perspective?
word press prompt of the day
lately I feel like I’m on borrowed time-
lately I feel like I’m not doing enough
and lately this fucks me up
so I over work, over exercise,
and over post
to make myself worthy of my existence
I want to make sure I’m leaving
some kind of imprint, some kind of legacy
behind that I’m remembered by
but it’s really me trying to please
the inner critic in me
who comes out when I’m most vulnerable
in my grief
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m constantly shunned from men who profess their love
when I show up feral and without a filter
They’ll call me their princess until I show them my wild
They always love me beautiful and submissive
and they leave when I get assertive and subversive
They feel deceived when they fall for a polite princess
And somehow end up with an amazon Queen
Maybe it’s the Incan in me who can’t reign it in
They say, “you’re too much, you’re too crazy”
Is there a man out there who can handle my duality?
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/23/hey-mister-%f0%9f%91%8b/
me estoy hundiendo en tu magia
es porque eres algo prohibido para mi
es porque eres malo para mi
Siempre me enamoro de lo que será
mi perdición y mi autodestrucción
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I forgive myself at 15 for crying over an idiot
who was never worth my time and energy
but he did spark my poetic voice
I forgive myself at 20 for writing more than 50 poems
about a 6 week relationship in 2001
but it did make for some hilarious blog content in 2021
I forgive myself at 25 for not fighting harder for my dreams
and for swallowing my anger and angst for the comfort of others
but that year I became a playwright
I forgive myself at 30 for drowning the writer in me
as I lost myself in my roles as wife and mother
but that year I launched my blog
I forgive myself at 35 for swallowing a bottle of xanax
because I felt like a failure as wife, mother, and worker
but the dark poetry from that time is some of my best
I forgive myself at 40 for wanting to die for two weeks in July
after being discarded by the “supposed” love of my life
but that summer I found the confidence to call myself a writer
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/26/poetry-why-dont-you/
porque no te armas de valor y le dices la verdad
en vez de correr de tus sentimientos con infidelidad y borracheras
estas haciendo dano a ti y a ella
pronto tu conciencia te devorara
no te estoy juzgando, estoy preocupado por ti
la gente está empezando con sus chismes
hasta piensan que soy la causa de ti infidelidad
y mientras me río de sus chismes
nuestra colega me contó la verdad
que ella es cómplice en tu infidelidad
y la mirada en su cara me dijo todo
ella está desesperadamente enamorada
esto es un juego de amor peligroso que estás jugando
donde tres personas se van a quemar
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/23/poetry-infatuation/
las mariposas que siento por ti
se convierten en poemas de amor
aunque nuestro amor nunca pueda ser
y tú perteneces a otra
tengo que reconocer
que eres el nuevo objeto de mi inspiración
que se está volviendo en una obsesión
Life on the BPD 