Poetry: Do I Know?
I wrote this poem in June of 2002 and almost 20 years later, I still have the same questions. Lol. At this point, I don’t know if I’ll ever know what romantic love and that’s okay. My life is filled with all kinds of different love that I’m not focused on finding romantic love or really care to.
I want to write about love
but do I really know what it is
Is it a certain look?
Or a certain action?
Is it caring for someone’s happiness
more than your own?
Or is it being with the one
that makes you crazy
and your heart race
with the sound of their voice?
What is love?
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Poetry: Silence
I wrote this about my ex boyfriend Ron, the one I cheated on with Lucas. I felt so much guilt and shame about the whole romantic fiasco. I should have broken up with Ron BUT this was a really confusing time and I was probably scared to be alone once again. I knew that the fling with Lucas would end eventually and that Ron wasn’t go anywhere…and honestly that’s probably the worst reason to stay with someone.
As I lie next to him
So much is left unsaid
So much I want to tell him
But the words cannot
Escape from my mouth
I want to tell him the truth
Instead of live in this big web of lies
I have mistakenly driven myself into
I want to tell him
I was with another but I do love him
But I can’t say anything
I don’t want to hurt him
Instead I lie next to him
in this defying silence
When nothing is said
and he thinks I only love him
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Hey 👋 Married Man
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Poetry: Mixed Feelings
I wrote this in 2002 about my coworker Lucas. This is a good example of the black and white thinking that happens with me when I’m in a relationship.
You’re so close to me
And impossible to reach
You’re the one I want to be with
And the one I want to run away from
You’re my best dream
And worst nightmare
You’re my reason for my happiness
And the epitome of my frustrations
You give me a reason to live
And a reason to leave this life
You’re the first on my list
And I’m the last on yours
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Arrancar
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Trauma be like…
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Poetry: A Note
I wrote this in 2002 about Lucas after he dropped me off at home. I really thought we had this special and unique connection at the time even though the situation was so fucked up.
He drops her off and waits for her to inside
opens the glove compartment
and picks up the note
she leaves for him
He feels ecstatic and miserable
at the same time
by her simple way with words
It’s not so much the content
It’s the meaning behind it
He wants to stop and love her
but he can’t
He realizes she leaves that note
as a reminder that she will
always love him
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Te Vi
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Poetry: Cherish
I wrote this in early 2002 about my married coworker Lucas. I remember going out to lunch with him one day and writing this poem about it the next day.
As I look upon him with my dopey love eyes
I wonder how he would feel next to me
at this exact moment
As we are listening to this song
and looking at each other at this very moment
I wonder what his exact feelings are
Maybe it’s something I can never know
or feel for sure
but this moment with him
is something I can forever cherish
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Cada día
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Poesía: Cobardía
Escribí este poema en 2002 acerca de Lucas. Estaba bien amarga y llena de amargura porque él nunca quiso dejar a su esposa. Mis pensamientos eran irracional e ilógico. Esto pasa cuando uno tiene trastorno límite de la personalidad.
El romance paro
gracias a tu cobardía
Nunca quisistes pelear
Por aquel amor que me decias
Que te hacía querer vivir la vida
Y yo me quedo aquí
Sola y desilusionada
Y tu
Con el viejo hábito
Que se llama “tu esposa”
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Poetry: I Wish
I wrote this in April of 2002 when I was depressed AF. I wrote this because I was in a toxic work environment where I was discriminated against, disrespected, and at one point even slut shamed. We could say by today’s standards that I was bullied to the extent that getting up every morning for this job was really hard. I was tired of it when I wrote this poem. I’ll tell the story of this toxic job in another blog post.
I wish I could throw up
everything ugly in my life
and only enjoy the beautiful
Perhaps tell the put me down people
to fuck off
Or stop their pathetic attempts
to change me into their idea
of what I should be
And stop getting talked into what
they think is best for me
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Poetry: Pain
I wrote this in 2002 when I was really depressed. I probably should have gone to therapy but instead I wrote poetry.
My emotional pain is killing me
at a steady pace with no means of stopping
Or even slowing down
I don’t know how to feel good
about myself anymore
I forgot what it’s like to laugh or smile
What’s left of my pride is gone.
