I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
false words fall from the lips of the supposed chosen prophets
and some people are desperate enough to believe them
some people see hope in those words in a world
that has forgotten about them
poetry: prophet
poetry: run
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
The way my body feels as my legs take flight brings freedom to my soul
It brings me a sense of amazement thinking of how
I went from couch potato to a woman who needs a run in the sun
to feel grounded, to feel sane
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cherry chapstick
Daily writing prompt
When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?
With cherry chapstick, I felt like a woman
I felt like a sexy vixen from the telenovelas
even though I was only 9-
and while everyone around me still treated me
like a little girl-
after applying my cherry chapstick
something awakened inside of me
Was it the beginning of puberty?
10/2/22
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poetry: white pendejadas
I wrote this poem in October of 2021.
Trauma after trauma
I have withstood
Standing up right away and pretending
everything was fine
There was no time
for tears or processing
of feelings
That was a luxury for
the white upper class
Therapy-pssst
No time or money for
that either –
It’s gringo concept
Self care – that’s only
for the rich
No, you’re a latina Woman
our people rely on grit
and resilience
There is no time for white pendejadas
No, you’re a latina woman –
you only need the strength
from your ancestors
to survive this life
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poetry: persistence
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
you chased me and chased me until your persistence finally paid off
and I landed in your bed
and now you won’t give me the time of day
make lame excuses for not responding to me texts
and I’m like wow
I never meant to live this cliche in my middle age
but everyone tells me I’m being dramatic
and my feelings feel almost invalid
except this time I listen to my intuition
that something about what you’re doing is kind of fucked up
going from 100 to 0 once you finally got what you wanted
or maybe this is on me for thinking you had changed
and this time we could have something lovely,
something different
how embarrassing for me to be still be naive at 43
but I guess this is the part where I thank you
for the lesson, for the experience
and to please don’t reach out to me when you’re lonely
There are apps for what you want,
there are women you can pay to service you
without any strings or emotional baggage
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poetry: finding myself in Autumn
I wrote this poem in October of 2021.
The rain falls steadily in Autumn
and I remember the 9 days in the summer
When the tears wouldn’t quit raining from my eyes
The eternal emotional pain wouldn’t stop
the lonely nights I couldn’t sleep
the infinite anger and sadness that I felt
the emptiness that wouldn’t
go away
the food I couldn’t eat.
And yet I still woke up
every day with a determination to live
live for my kids
live for my friends
live for myself
even at my worst,
even at my most vulnerable
Somehow, I managed
managed to find strength
managed to find inspiration
and somehow managed to
find my way back to myself
Summer was the season
I died when I was
rejected by the one who
claimed to love me
Autumn is the season I was reborn
and I fell back in love
with myself, forgot him
and fell into the magic
that is me
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poetry: silly Patty
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
you’re fumbling me bad and you should be ashamed
I figured you learned your lesson by now
but maybe this one’s on me for letting you near me
Silly, Patty
even at 43, I can’t get the hint
that men only want me for one thing
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poetry: stillness
I wrote this poem in October of 2020.
The stillness in my life makes me insane
I’m craving an adventure
I’m craving ecstasy
I’m craving the unpredictable
To lie in the stillness feels like dying
and I want to live
Live life spontaneously,live life musically
Live a life full of excitement
To live in this stillness makes me feel like
I’m drowning in a lake of stagnation
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poetry: what is it?
I wrote this poem in October of 2024
is it the gods of bpd and pmdd or the men in my life with 3 of swords energy
making me extra hateful and moody today
are my standards too high because I’m obsessed
with conan gray, joji, and yung gravy
and none of the men in my life seem to hold a flicker of a flame
to the Gods of music I worship
is is the gods of bpd and pmdd or my chronic pain making me a moody bitch
today or is it me not being selective enough with who I’m allowing
into my inner circle and allowing clowns to pollute my energy
because lately my poetry isn’t hitting like it used to
or maybe I just need to uninstall all of my social media apps,
turn off my phone for a few days, and read books and listen to my vinyls
to reset and recharge
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poetry: falling apart
I wrote this poem in October of 2019.
And just when I think I have it all figured out–
Everything falls apart again
the universe has a funny way of humbling me
just when I think I finally have it together
When does it get easier?
Am I being punished for not conforming
to society’s expectations of me?
Should I be sorry for not wanting to just be
a wife and mother?
Will I ever be free of society’s shackles
thrusted upon me?
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poetry: appetite
I wrote this poem in in October of 2024.
I keep saying I’ve changed and that I’m different
but I still have an appetitive for self destruction
it’s the only excuse I can come up for letting you
near me and finding myself in a spiral of self implosion
is there something in me left to heal for me
to keep allowing you to make a fool out of me
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poetry: the stranger
I wrote this poem in October of 2021.
I don’t recognize the
Stranger in the mirror-
the me whose face
has more chiseled features
with a stronger jawline
and haunted eyes
There is no idealism
or fantasies of love
in her eyes
Instead, she stares back
at me with a look
of strength and determination-
like she’s saying –
“You’re your own savior “
and
“There’s no such thing as
Prince Charming”
-“The princess has been left
behind and you’re now a Queen”
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poetry: our journey
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
we went from devils to fools within a span of a couple of years
it’s a journey that almost broke us
one that needed to be taken apart
you needed to find out who you were without alcohol
I needed to find out who I was without a lover
and when we met again
I was deathly afraid to let you back in
and kept my guard up
making sure we didn’t fall back into the toxicity
we used to bask in
and various times I thought that meant
blocking you, ghosting you, taking what you said personally
but really it was me being careful with my ego and energy
not wanting to risk another emotional relapse
and the last time I let you go
I really thought we were done
but on a september night, you texted again
And while I tried to keep it platonic
I couldn’t help myself and found myself
in your arms once again
trying desperately to keep it casual,
to say no strings attached at all,
you can leave when you want to
but how can I do this when I keep
thinking about you
and suddenly I find myself a fool
in our journey
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poetry: Google photos
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Fuck you google photos for reminding me of my past trauma and happiness
I want to move the fuck on-live in my present-plan for my future
and you’re here reminding me of someone I long to forget-
“Memories together” more like “trauma bonding together” or
“fabulously failing at this relationship together”
How many years must past before you stop reminding me
of my love fiascos
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poetry: what’s wrong with me?
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
Lavender and lace daydreams fill up my head
when I’m in love
everything soft, everything vulnerable,
everything oh so delicate and pretty
but then reality hits and the daydreams turn into
gray and somber nightmares
everything rough, everything violent
everything hard and ugly
and I wonder over and over again
what is wrong with me
why do they all leave?
am I not worthy?
Life on the BPD 