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poetry: birthday week

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

me on my birthday

man sets himself on fire for gaza
woman murdered just for existing
babies starved to death for being born Palestinian
young adult dies at dorm of the local university
collective grief rattles our communities
don’t know what to make of so much loss
happening within a matter of days
all we can do is hold on to each other
as senseless madness and violence takes place
all we can do is tell our stories
build our sanctuaries within each other
remind ourselves of our warmth, our humanity
when the world is heavy with cruelty and toxicity

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poesía: El Cielo

aquí esta en enlace para la version en Ingles:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12061

el cielo se cayó sobre mí aquella noche
cuando me destruiste con una llamada
y por muchas semanas llore
echada sobre el piso
hasta quedarme dormida
por muchas semanas deseaba desaparecer
en un abismo del olvido
y 10 años despues todavia pienso
en aquella mañana fatal donde perdí
la poca inocencia que todavía tenía

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Poesía: Encajo

Escribi este poema en febrero del 2024.

2/15/2024

Encajo donde nadie me dice que río demasiado fuerte,
Encajo donde una comunidad que he creado
en mi familia y amigos
Encajo en las miles de páginas en mi cuaderno
donde escribo mis sentimientos y pensamientos
más íntimos y privados
encajo en él cuando él comparte su vulnerabilidad
Conmigo

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poetry: charming

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

before I knew who I was
I used to be oh so charming to men
always agreeing with them,
mirroring their interests,
stroking their egos and other things
and giving them easy access to me
I never used much discernment in this
my standard were 3000 leagues under the sea
So I allowed any mediocre joe who showed me
the least bit of attention into my universe
and I allowed this to happen for 26 years
making myself fodder for these mediocre and insecure joes
who left the minute I show then a bit of the fire I held within
and everytime they left, I was destroyed
and like a tarot’s fool I keep repeating this nonsense
until a few years ago, I had enough
when the last of the joes
said I was too much for him
and it was the final straw
that broke my romantic girl spirit
for a while I was touch and go with my sanity
but I rose and rose like the Peruvian diosa I had always been
and in horror I realized laying in bed with mediocrity
only damaged me, it was time to change this narrative
and slowly I recovered from the latest love tragedy
and starting writing my own love story
one where alone I’m enough and the protagonist
and never again have to tone down who I am
or hide the fire and magic that resides in me

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poetry: the sky

Here’s a link to the original 2006 poem that inspired this poem:

Poetry: Why?

the sky fell on me on that tuesday morning
when you ended me with a 5 minute phone call
for weeks I cried on the carpet
until I fell asleep
for weeks I wanted to fade away
into an abyss of nothingness
and even though it’s been almost decade
I still think about that Tuesday morning
the morning I lost the small piece
of innocence I had left

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poetry: I’m here

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

me looking at the sunset in Lima

overwhelmed by the sights and sounds at jorge chavez airport
fast castellano coming from everyone
with cumbia in the background
machu picchu advertisements everywhere
my mind is trying to process everything in real time
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
the land of inca cola, ceviche and my ancestors
land that I haven’t seen since the age of 9
and didn’t fully appreciate it
happy and completely elated
euphoria and goosebumps felt from my bones
to my skin
I never thought I’d see it again
poverty kept me away but I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
my beloved Perú
the land I left without consent
the land I was taught to menospreciar
I’m here, I’m here, I’m here
and I can’t wait to get reacquainted with you
mi tierra-once again

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poetry: block island

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

me after blocking another dude

I still watch our video, we were so cute together
(sends pic of us naked in bed)
your pussy is fire
I’ll wait for you until you change your mind
I guess loving you is a crime
these are the things said to me by the men
I send to block island
exes and lovers who continuously disrespected me
and never could listen to my no
or respect my boundaries when we tried to be friends
one of them I had to threaten to expose with the story
Of how I broke his dick
the rest made me feel a deep sense of guilt
and covered me with toxic shame for letting them
near me
and I yell at that sick version of myself asking her
“What the fuck girl, what was wrong with you”
she responds, “I was mentally ill and impulsive,lol”
and I try to find forgiveness for all of us
trying to not victimize or villainize but the fire of anger
rises up and I hate them and me
for ever exchanging energies with them
the only lesson learn in this is
be careful, be wary of the nice guys
the guys who talk a big game about respect
and still make you an object of their obsession
they’re the ones most likely to break you apart

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poetry: on Sundays

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

me on a sunday

on sundays I give myself permission
to live inside my head
where I build a world I can freely imagine
and play in
where only a select few I let in
on sundays, I jump timelines
from the 90s to last year to my present
writing about past experiences
that still linger in my mind
on sundays I give myself permission
to be a complete hermit
with only my playlist, my pen,
and my paper to keep me company

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poetry: thanatos

here’s the Spanish version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11875

petrified, frustrated, and stagnated
drowning in a sea of disillusionment
thanatos finds me and whispers in my ear
“come with me and your pain will disintegrate”
and the temptation to follow him is great
I hate living in such a terrible and inhumane
world

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poesía: thanatos

este poema fue inspirado por el poema “estoy frustrada” de 2006.

Poesía: Estoy Frustrada

Asustada, frustrada, y estancada
me ahogo en un mar de desolación
y thanatos susurra en mi oído, “ven conmigo
y todo tu dolor se esfumara”
y la tentación de seguirlo es grande
estoy harta de vivir en un mundo
tan terrible, tan malvado,
tan lleno de inhumanidad

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poetry: toxic story

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame
even if logically I know it’s not my fault
and I was just standing up for myself
I’m still recovering from being a nice girl
I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you
when toxicity was served on a platter of love
I’m still recovering from compromising
my values and my true self
for the comfort of others so they’d stay
I’m still recovering from the most toxic
story I ever told myself when it came
to measuring my worth by how
others judged and perceived me