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Poetry: Nostalgia

I wrote this poem in 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about my ex boyfriend A after I had a dream about him. That love story is actually super complicated but that’s another blog post.

Me at age 16

The light falls on his eyes for a few minutes

And I see the flecks of green in them

But what I really see is a different life

I see the life that could’ve been mine

I see the kids we never had

I see the us that was and couldn’t be

But mostly what I see

Is a world full of remorse

Because of adolescent lies and pride

That made us say 

Sorrowful goodbyes

Goodbye Hazel Eyes

And the almost happy future

Held in them 

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Poetry: Waiting

This another poem inspired about the great breakup of 2001. I probably wrote this when it first happened. My sense of reality is shook up after a break up and it feels like a never ending nightmare that I’ll never wake up from after it happens. This doesn’t happen with every break up…just the ones that really affect me.

Waiting 

So I wait for the phone to ring
To hear you say
this loneliness has all been a horrible dream
So I wait for you to show up at my door
To tell me you can’t stand being away from me no more
So I wait for your love letter in my mailbox
To begin getting back together

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Poetry: Young and Dumb

I wrote this in 2006 when I was remember the days of my youth.

always remember that…

Young and Dumb 

My mind tries to fight
What my heart wants to write
About being young and dumb
You’d think I’ve moved on
But it doesn’t happen
And my paper is dampened
With words about being sixteen
And doing many sinful things
Getting drunk and hooking up
Was my beginner’s luck
But I still had plenty of luck
Being young and so dumb
My pen and paper will have to settle
For not knowing any better

Pattyat16
Me circa 1997, at 16. 

 

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Poetry: Unhappiness

I wrote this poem in fall of 2005 when I was feeling overwhelmed by my responsibilities of being a mother, a girlfriend, a student and a worker. As usual at that time, I took on too much and was trying to be everything to everyone. One trait of BPD that I’ve carried throughout the years is over extending myself sometimes to my detriment in order to make other people happy.

Me with my middle child circa late 2005

Feelings I can’t turn off

Quickly come in droves

Don’t know what to do 

My options are few

Do I follow my gut?

And get away from this rut

Or do i stay here ?

And become what I fear;

A woman that settles

And lets others meddle 

A woman with no mind

And with everything, she is fine

But can I turn off the real me?

And stay so unhappy

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Poetry: Ecstasy

I wrote this in the year 2001 after really good sex with my ex Paul. He was 29 and I was 19 at the time. It may have been the first or second time I think. He said to me right afterwards, “Don’t fall in love with me.” Man, I sure know how to pick them. Lol.

It’s always the “passion in me” that gets them..haha

He was beautiful
He made love to me with his eyes
He made me melt with the simplest caress
He made me feel like a woman
With his beautiful words and loving touch
We melted together as one
And finally as we reached the end
We knew that as we exploded in the ecstasy
that our lovemaking brought
We are one for the other
And we will be forever

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Poetry: My Pride and Joy

I wrote this poem in 2004 about my oldest son. Even though, I was 17 when I had him, I always tried to be the best mother for him. I worked to support him since I was 18, he was one of my biggest motivations for going to college, and even though I was extremely insecure as a young mom, I learned to advocate and fight for him to get the services and therapies he needed when he was diagnosed with autism.

me and my oldest in 2003

You’re a wonderful mistake

I never want to unmake

I was young and stupid

a kid having another kid

but with you I finally grew up

and learned the meaning of love

You are everything a mother could want

Such an admirable and fine son

you are my pride and joy

you will always be my little boy

And I will dread the day

When you have to go away

But I take relief in knowing

You’ll know how to spread your wings

And you will always remember

who you once were

A wonderful mistake

Your mom never wanted to unmake

Perhaps a creation of lust

but one who never lacked love

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Poetry: Lame

This is another poem about the bio dad of my oldest son. Obviously I had a lot of anger directed at him that I should have gone to therapy for but instead I just wrote a lot of angry poetry. Ha.

me and my oldest son in 2006

You don’t know him and chances are 

 You never will

You could’ve been somebody real in his life

But you BLEW IT! 

So now is the time to say 

Goodbye forever. 

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Poetry: Caught Between

I wrote this 2001 when I took a break from writing angry breakup poetry-lol. As an immigrant that grew up here, I’ve struggled with my identity for most of my life. Issues with identity are also another trait of BPD. I think this was a time in my life when I was especially reflecting on this part of my identity because I was become aware that men were fetishizing me.

me in 2001 around the time I wrote this poem

Caught between two worlds
what am I made up of more
hopefully I won’t ever have to choose
sometimes I wish to just cut loose

Too Latina for the American side
Too Americanizada for the Latino side
So what is the politically correct term for someone like me?
Not American, not born here
Not fully Latina either
for I lack that latin allure

So I’ll call myself one of a kind
a girl with much Latin beauty and an American mind
like a delicious half and half cream
whose taste is an amazing mixed dream

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Poetry: My Pathetic Little Beast

Me in 2006 when I wrote this poem

I wrote this poem in 2006 about my tumultuous relationship with writing. I love to write and it’s saved me more times than I can count. However, I tend to beat myself up if I’m not writing enough.

Instead of tears from eyes that long to spill,
I will spill words onto these pages.
Words that make sense,
Words that don’t make sense,
Many are in fact nonsense
I will let my emotions, the wind
And my surroundings guide me until
I fill up these pages
Full of nonsense, prose,
Poetry, ideas, and everything I can think of
This will be a new phase
this new phase will be full
of promise and potential
And it will also be full
of what I hope is the inspiration
that leads me to share my relationship
to the world.
this will be my fourth baby
Another one I will nurse and raise until it is
As beautiful and complete as my
real life ones.
This is the promise I make to
my pathetic little beast.

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Poetry: The Difference

I wrote this in 2006 after I was reflecting my first years of being a mother to my eldest child who I had at 17. Becoming a mother at such a young age didn’t make me the best parent and at times I still tried to act my age and party a lot even though I was a parent. It used to eat me up inside but I’ve come to terms that I did the best I could under the circumstances.

me and my oldest in 1999 when I was 18

Late nights at the club

Drunk and dancing-you

Singing lullabies

Until he fell asleep-I

Getting ass from 

an unknown stranger-you

Looking for monsters under the bed

and wishing them away-I

Waking up in an unknown place

With a helluva hangover-you

Waking up from little hands 

Shaking my shoulders-I

You and I=me

Me =two different truths

About the way your childhood

 Was seen

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Poetry: The Light

I wrote this in 2006 about my husband, then boyfriend. I tend to put a lot of my worth in the person I’m romantically involved with. This is another BPD trait.

me in 2006 with my middle child

Rising from darkness I struggle to find 

       the light in the oblivion

 that has become my life. 

The light is bright with love without conditions . 

The light tells me I’m good enough. 

The light is you. 

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Poetry: License

I wrote this poem in 2002 about my oldest son’s bio dad. I had a lot of angry emotions about how he abandoned him.

Me with my oldest son circa 1999
me with my oldest son circa 1999

A license to create is what shouldn’t

Be given to those who don’t know how to 

Appreciate their child’s laughter 

Or comfort their high pitch cries

A license to create is what shouldn’t 

Be given to those who don’t understand 

What it takes to be an example to 

Those that descend from them 

A license to create is what shouldn’t 

Be given to those who leave children 

In the dust to follow their own desires 

Without looking back on their offspring’s 

 sad little face that whimpers,

“Daddy, come back”