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.
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
I wrote this in 2006 when I was remember the days of my youth.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
Thank you for the nights full of passion Thank you for your mouth and hands that make me lose control that make me melt like an ice cube in the sun Thank you for coming into my life Even if it’s for an instant Thank you for being here