Again and again and again
-I let you back in
You take me in passionately
and intensely
And without thinking
I’m 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 I’m no longer known as the writer with BPD
when I no longer make my mental illness a part of my brand
when I’m 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
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
you could have been my forever muse, my forever thot
But like the others before you
you don’t know what to do with a woman like me
maybe my ingenuity is to blame for this
wanting to live in a delusional daydream of love
instead of grounding myself in reality
and radically accepting love is just a four letter word
in my vocabulary that wrecks and ruins my sanity
The numbness comes back
and there is nothing to fill the void
Running, drinking, dancing
Nothing stops the thoughts
about deleting myself
from this cesspool called life
What’s the point?
To love and get your heart
crushed over and over and over again
I had come so far
and to think this one
was well different
But once again
I was wrong, so wrong
Love stories aren’t meant
for people like me
Because I’m too much,
Too hard, too crazy
To ever be truly loved
But I keep going, I keep continuing
One step at a time,
One day at a time
to live
Because that’s the right and brave
thing to do
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
I wanted to kill my sex drive so I stopped taking buspar
and while my sex drive has finally waned
the side effects are slowly killing me
between the mental fog, the constant headaches,
the nausea followed by the loss of appetite
there’s a reason they tell you to wean slowly
from psychiatric drugs, to do it under the care
of a medical provider
stopping cold turkey lends to a spiral of madness
and a physical ailment I never intended
I’m in love and I hold my breath
wondering when this wondrous feeling
will end.
When will you stop looking at me
like I’m magic?
When will I stop fantasizing about you?
When will we both tire of each other?
When will we end up in a predictable rut?
So I hold on to this moment when I’m in love
and hold my breath hoping that it’s a long time
before the end.
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
three years ago, I was dealing with the most chaotic move of my life
never thought my new home would see the death of me
the princess who moved in
and the resurrection of the queen I was about to become
I told myself “no expectations”
“Just use him for a short time”
That’s all he’ll be good for
But his words, his gaze
His hands, his lips
Felt like home the first night
This can’t be happening
This can’t be real
This isn’t who I want to be with
But my heart wouldn’t listen
To the logic in my head,
The advice from my friends
I had the first hit and I needed to go back-
I feel like a pathetic drug addict-
I told myself “no expectations”
And yet a year later-
Here we still are in our
Intense and passionate love affair
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
saw you and knew right away there wouldn’t be a second date
thought I made that apparent enough at the end
but 3 years later you send me a snap to ask me
if I’m still interested
Sorry
but the woman you met is no longer who I used to be
maybe you had a chance with her
but the new me-she’s careful who she gives access to
the new me has cut off any strings left
from the old life the old me use to live
Healthy is boring
When you only know
pain, strife, and destruction
from those who claim to love you
Healthy is boring
when toxicity and chaos
and insecurity
ruled previous relationships
Healthy is boring
when “love” was a word
that held me hostage
to previous lovers
Healthy is boring
when for the first time
with a lover
you feel a sureness
With him
And you feel like you’re enough
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
waited for you at the bar as I downed a margarita
anxiety and anticipation sat in my belly
wondering if I could be your dream girl
wondering if this time you’d kiss me
Wondering if there would ever come a day
I’d regret meeting you
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
everytime you disappear, I lose an ounce
of the fondness and affection I hold for you
this last time,I didn’t even notice
I thought, good for him
he found someone else to stroke his ego
and validate him
but here you are again
everything I once felt for you
has dried out
and I have nothing left to say
as you try to nonchalantly come back into my life
I’m filled with indifference this time
holding onto my new sense of empowerment
careful to not again fall under your spell
once again
What was the last live performance you saw?
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
brown eyes
scorpio energy
takes my hand
I’m in trouble
warm rush of emotions
Blocked
Blocked from my phone
Blocked from my world
Blocked from being
The constant chaos
That torpedoes into my life
And fucks things up
If only I could
Block you from my mind
If only I could
Block you from my heart
If only I could
Block you from my dreams
Blocked from mentioning your name
My friends know better
If only I could
Block you from
My poetry and prose
Life on the BPD 