
Natureβs kiss is the sunshine on my face as I run-
and itβs hug is the wind against my body as I fall
into the rhythm of the song Iβm listening to-
nature was part of Godβs remedy for
the darkness and despair I tend to fall into

It could be worse they say because I could be dead
my children left without a mother
my parents left without a daughter
My friends and coworkers left without entertainment
of my emotional and dramatic hijinks
And I left without fulfilling my potential or life purpose
It could be worse they say because with me gone
Who else will give you my special brand of crazy?
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

it wasnβt until today I realized how ordinary you really were
It wasnβt that you were ever that interesting or special
It was me with my lovergirl delusional glasses
refusing to see past what was in front of me
Seeing and getting caught up in fantasies
of who you could be
when really you were, the most ordinary of men
not malicious, not especially intelligent
not really helpful
just kind of existing without any spark
without anything that would make me
look twice at you now
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

july, july, july
itβs the month where I lose my mind
the heat gets to me and turns up the BSC in me
you wonβt find me sweet and eager to please in July
you wonβt find me full of ruffles and flowery phrases
in poetry
youβll find me being a ball of immigrant rage and fury
youβll find me a woman whoβs had enough
of the American dream bullshit
and ready to roar and scream out everything wrong
with this country
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

my body feels like a rundown shack
that’s crumbling down slowly
I canβt get up in the morning
without my knee or hip
bitching and moaning
without me groaning in pain
and mumbling to myself
βOmg, another stupid dayβ
and cursing my genetics
that make me watch everything
I eat
and again I wonder
am I paying a karmic debt
for my colonizer ancestors
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

youβve change from spring to autumn within moments
never knew if I should wear my feelings on my sleeve
never knew if I should wear layers of cynicism
Iβve made it as simple as possible for you
and nothing happens
and slowly my hope of love recedes in the background
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

everyone I meet wants to fix me
my hair is wild and indomitable
my grammar is atrocious
my laugh is too loud
and we canβt forget about my crooked teeth
and while most of them mean well
I wonder whatβs so wrong with me
that people always fixate on my flaws

I can never compete
With a lifetime of love, of memories
Of him knowing her
Even when she breaks his heart
Over and over and over again
Even when I let him break mine
Over and over and over again
Itβs a vicious cycle of love, heartbreak, and regret
A cycle where I continue to break my own heart
Because I will never be pretty or skinny
Like her
I will never be enough!

There is a border around you
Cemented with callousness
Every now and then
I see glimpses of good-
Within you
But only on the nights
When you are drunk and lonely
Only the nights
When you want my skin
To cover yours
You give me orgasms
And sweet compliments
And fill me up with lies-
And the day after
Your border is closed
Its impenetrable
So hard to break through
So hard to keep loving you
So I give up
Every time I TRY
To chisel a little at it
My heart hurts
and breaks a little more
So I”ll stop trying to break through
No matter how happy you make me
For a few hours
Youβre not worth
Days, weeks, and months
Of misery

Again and again and again
-I let you back in
You take me in passionately
and intensely
And without thinking
Iβm back in your arms
And for the briefest of moments
I believe you love me
Loneliness makes one blind
To the sad reality
You just like the convenience of my hips
Lust makes one blind
To the hard truth
You just like to use
The warmth of my body
To covers yours
At your leisure
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

I look forward to the day when Iβm no longer known as the writer with BPD
when I no longer make my mental illness a part of my brand
when Iβm no longer dependent on my ex husband
and antipsychotics to survive
when I finally start to resemble something like a normal person
and not the vehement emotional mess I usually am
Unsurvivable

I wanted you but
God wanted you more
Perhaps you were an angel
not meant for earth
Perhaps you were a hard a lesson
in grief and loss
That I needed to learn
A lesson that I should never take
love and hope for grant
No matter how brief the stay is
A lesson that your heart
can break within a span
of a few minutes
A lesson in surviving
what you think is unsurvivable
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty
even as Iβm suffering, even as Iβm cast aside
for someone else
even as Iβm crying and dying from grief
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about
all of the lovely and terrible things
that come with falling in love
at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons
about life and love
Iβve carried into my middle age