I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty
even as I’m suffering, even as I’m cast aside
for someone else
even as I’m crying and dying from grief
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about
all of the lovely and terrible things
that come with falling in love
at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons
about life and love
I’ve carried into my middle age
Virus
Loving you feels like a virus
I’ll never recover from
I lie awake at night
and thoughts of you infect me
I keep saying I want to be cured
of your love disease
that travels from my body
and into my mind
I’ve tried to find the cure
in someone else
But for some reason
your virus is resistant
It won’t go away
no matter what I do
I try hard to stay away
but it’s no use
The virus that is your love
is incurable
Virus
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
shadows of summer’s past came and haunted me
in dreams, in my most intrusive of thoughts
every summer tragedy comes to the surface
in spring
not allowing me to enjoy the may flowers
that are blooming
not allowing the visual poetry of spring
happening right in front of me
panic attacks, crying spells, dissociative episodes
bursts of anxiety and nightmares
that deprive me of sleep, leaving me in a haze
of despair followed by depression
and I end up in a fog of exhaustion I can’t
seem to get rid of
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
Ostracized, alienated, and abandoned for being too odd, too much
cried a million tears over the same story
too stubborn to learn from the tragic lessons sent from the universe
naively believed this one will complete me, this one will save me
it wasn’t until my middle age, I had a great catharsis and said
“OH SHIT, I AM ENOUGH!”
I let go of my damsel in distress story
wrote a new story of empowerment and love within
the pages of my journal
Wrote and wrote like a madwoman until I found peace
and closure from anything that traumatized me
come to the conclusion
the only hero I ever needed was the woman in the mirror
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
he can say anything because of his pretty privilege
I don’t know a woman alive who wouldn’t sleep with him
6’7, blonde hair, blue eyed norse God with silly rhymes
I’d be his working class Peruvian version of Sofia Vergara
Get rid of my empowered Incan Goddess persona
and become sweet and submissive just for him
get wrapped up figuratively and literally in gravy magic
What are your favorite emojis?
😌😪✔️👌😢😂🤣🥳 always crying, always laughing
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
I hold onto my should haves for old times sake
to inspire the poet out of me
should have hugged him a few moments longer
the other night so he’d get a hint of how I felt
should have broken up with him in spring
after that email
should have cut ties with him in the summer
the first time he kicked me out of his apartment
should have divorced him the winter
after I tried to die
should have, should have, should have
so many of them could have prevented
some emotional disasters, earthquakes
that broke my core
but then again, should haves have inspired
1001 poems and stories in my tome of lust and love
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
I’m lead to a higher version of myself after integration
it’s uncomfortable and I blush red in this latest transformation
annoyed and hate everything I write as most of it
takes a romantic undertone
I started to miss the woman-scorned and empowered
who decimated her exes
the one who came up with the clever phrase
electronic pink slip
but that woman is slipping away from me
transforming into a woman who wears her heart
on her sleeve with her poetry
transforming into a woman who’s grown bored
of hating her exes
and instead wants to be on friendly terms with them
transforming into a woman who understands
and accepts she not defined by her trauma or a diagnosis
and instead should lean into the magic of love
that lurks inside of her
Life on the BPD 