Mother of three
What does that even mean?
Responsibilities, obligations, duties
Alcohol and going out are taboo for me
Songs of sacrifices and martyrdom
Are the tunes I hum
Dinner with friends and
concerts are just WRONG!
Soccer games and play dates
Are my important dates
No time to spend
With my lifetime mates?
Mother of three,
Will I ever be free?
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
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
ancestor, ancestor-
which alcohol goes best with making shitty life decisions
ancestors says, not the PBR, not the michelob ultra light, it’s too basic of an energy
for the kind of epic shitty life decisions you tend to make
don’t reach for the margarita wine either, too obvious, too much of a cliche
and you already have plenty of them in your poetry
Go for the Guiness six pack
make your shitty life decisions with some English class
since most of your terrible decisions tend to include some asshole
whose ancestors are colonizer Englishmen
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
desperate for attention, desperate for love
desperate to cover myself up with another soul
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
I didn’t have an identity, I didn’t have any self worth
I didn’t have any self love
Once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
to find validation in my existence
to use compliments to feed my ego
to lose myself in someone else
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
I was undiagnosed with BPD
I was incredibly insecure
I was following the script prescribed to me
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
and that was a long time ago
and now it’s been 3 years since I’ve been in a relationship
almost 2 years in my journey of celibacy
and 6 months since I’ve been declared officially single
once upon a time I collected lovers like Pokemon cards
and now I block anyone who tries to get near me
and want to vomit when I interact with my crush
It’s April again and it’s not only spring that is in bloom but also the creativity that goes along with it. And of course, it’s national Poetry month and every year since 2022 I try to participate in NaPoWrimo which is an activity where I write a poem a day and post it on my blog. I use prompts from this website for inspiration: https://www.napowrimo.net/ and as always I’m excited to see what crazy poems I come up with. Last year my favorite poem was a spicy one I wrote about Yung Gravy that I ended up performing at open mic.
my forever muse
Also, this year, I decided to give y’all my own original prompts to inspire y’all. Feel free to send me your poem and I’ll post it on my blog or you can just keep it in between the pages of your journal. I had a goal last year that I would post my own prompts for National Poetry Month and here we are. So here are prompts that I wrote sometime in early 2022. Here’s my contact info where you can email me or dm me your poem.
Hope y’all get inspired. And for my bilingual Spanish speaking baddies, I got another set of Spanish Prompts here:https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12443
An immigrant love song (swan song)
Privilege and luxury
A letter to my current muse
A letter to my future muse
What’s worth my time
Intergenerational trauma
Fairytale
The drug that is love
Writing is my lifeline
To my next victim
The work blues
The accident
My chosen family
Not enough time
Maybe I owe you an apology
The truth.com
Love looks like…
he killer of dreams
Exposure therapy
Destined for madness
Dancing
Don’t fall in love with me
Forgiving my younger self
My happiest moments
Searching for calm
I knew this was gonna hurt
Distorted reality
Death must feel better than this
I know how this story ends
Cover me with lies
What is the cure for a broken soul?
escribà este poema en Marzo de 2024.
la ira y furia de mis antepasados femeninas viven en mi
ellas me visitan en sueños y me mandan mensajes
que cuentan sus historias, sus verdades aunque duelan,
aunque algunas me llamaran sádica y dramática
ellas me inquietan y me dicen
es tiempo de gritar todas las injusticias
y trastornos vividow
que nuestras muertes no han sido en vano
y aunque lloro y trato de ignorar la llamada de la sangre
es inevitable-fui escogida-
para sus venganzas, para sus historias de redención
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
any idea or notion of romance is lost to me
I’ve tried every which way to make myself appetizing
edible for men to take interest in me, love me
but the story always turns sour
and I’m tired of rejection followed by bouts
of tears and insanity
this spring I will not spend my energy
trying to manifest another fool I’ll get obsessed about
or get caught up in my head and daydreams
this spring I’m going to concentrate
only on my potential that’s yet to bloom
Focus of the world of creativity
that resides within waiting to get out
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12220
agujas agudas de agonÃa penetra mi mente y cuerpo
me siento super debil
cubierta en una frazada de derrota
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12209
asustada y desesperada, me ato a ti
aprendà de niña que la soledad
era una maldición
y qué quedarse sola es la peor cosa
que le puede pasar a una mujer
Life on the BPD 