I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I’m not just a lesson learned, I’m a whole education
my mood swings will teach you patience and self-control
and things about bipolar and BPD you never wanted to learn
Making love to me will give you a degree in the best WAPP
you’ll ever experience
And when you break my heart and leave
You’ll earn your PhD in what happens when you fuck over
A Peruvian woman who’s crazy
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
Could I be so lucky to ever become the muse
of one of your poems or songs?
or am I too ordinary to be inspiring enough
to be written about
I wrote this poem in July of 2020.
The Darkness comes back
with a fierce strength
and takes over my mind
I want to run
I want to hide
But most of all I want to die
The Darkness comes back
like a hurricane
and wrecks my body and mind
and I don’t want to work
and I don’t want to talk
and I don’t want to breathe
The Darkness comes back
and not even the promise of love
keeps it away
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
I collect crushes like little boys collect pokemon cards
I’m addicted to the potential of love
without doing anything about it
except to occasionally test their waters
Nonchalantly sliding into their DMs
And posting a thirst trap selfie
and celebrating with a love song
when one of them likes it
or comments on it
hoping one of them sees past my salty poetry
hoping one of them is brave enough
to ask me out for coffee
and wants to get to know the real me
I wrote this poem in July of 2020.
Chaotic and destructive thoughts
enter my mind
I want to die and feel the blood drain
from my body
I want to fuck
and feel pleasure
with a complete stranger
I want to yell at everyone
that makes me feel worthless
I want to sing all of the sad and depressing songs
of unrequited loves –
But most of all-
I want the dangerous nonsense in my head
to STOP!
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
I hold my head up high now
no matter what happens
I will never allow anyone
to ever again dim or extinguish my light
I now understand the magic I hold within
and how it can be intimidating
to some people who can’t understand it
escribi este poema en Julio del 2021.
Mordiste la manzana y ahora no sabes como parar
ahora soy tu adicción nueva
no puedes parar de pensar en mi
casi estás obsesionado conmigo
porque soy una mujer inolvidable y poderosa
y sientes algo conmigo que no sientes con otras
y por eso siempre, siempre regresas a mi
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
The romantic in me riots and protests and says
this solitary confinement is bullshit
It’s been over a year since we’ve been intimate
with anyone
or felt a romantic connection
and I try to reason with her
“We’re still healing
and we like to stay emotionally regulated
and healthy”
and she yells, “no it’s time to take all
of our therapy skills out for test drive
and find someone we vibe with’
And I answer, “but we’re not”
And she screams, “stop with your excuses
go find the next muse of our poetry”
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
Trust in love is a concept lost to me
I can’t imagine giving my heart to anyone else
I can’t imagine being vulnerable with anyone else
and it’s insanity to keep allowing myself to trust and love
when all I do is lose, lose, lose
I don’t know how to cope when a love song stops
while I’m still dancing
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
the tragedy of my anxiety is that I overthink things
until I sabotage everything
and while I’ve worked on this for a couple of years
I still have problems when good things happen to me
It’s the demon of insecurity coming back to fuck with me
who wants me to fulfill my self fulfilling prophecy of defeat
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
When I fall in love, I lose control, and I lose my power
and it’s painful
because now I have someone to lose
and I don’t deal with loss very well ever
and suddenly I’m all about them, them, them
be understanding, be sweet, be accepting
Be everything
I’ll go to the depths of hell and back for them
but most of the time, they won’t even cross the street for me
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
I gave the middle finger to love for a few reasons
I like to stay emotionally regulated
I like to not be on the brink of suicidal ideation
Every other week
I needed to find out who I was
without anyone distracting me
And for once in my life
I needed to make myself a priority
I wrote this poem in July of 2021.
Seeds of resentment and anger creeps up in my throat
Men who claim to care and love me just want to control me
And me, well i’m just a weak thing, a rag doll
To be used at their convenience,
Be a nice girl, be a good girl, be a sweet girl
Work hard and play by the rules of their game
Be kind, be submissive, be sexy
Seeds of resentment and anger creeps up in my throat
And I want to be burn them all down
With my actions, with my words, with a tweet
I can’t be controlled or stay submissive
For I am too powerful, too crazy, too opinionated
To be tied to this illusion and false idea
They want to have of me
I am a bitch, a vixen, a bad ass
I own my sexuality, my independence, my life
And no one, no one can ever own m
I wrote this poem in July of 2023.
My bones did not bend back to how they used to be
after you left, they hardened, became dense
and formed a circle around my heart
And every time I try to soften them
to allow the potential of a new love in
it stubbornly refuses to soften a single bit
no matter how amazing that new potential may be
mace sits next to my insect repellent in my backpack
gone are the days where I could go on a solitary walk
without worrying if someone evil is lurking nearby
gone are the days where I could turn the volume all the way up
in my earbuds and forget about everyone else
and meditate and write in nature
soon I’ll be looking up self defense classes
to cover all of my bases
I’m too important to fall victim to bad luck
and become another statistic in the epidemic of femicide
still I dare anyone to come at me
this time I’m armed with the rage of my ancestors and BPD
Life on the BPD 