Here is the English version of this poem:
Poetry: A Liberal Kind of Love
Besitos en la mejilla y
tomándonos de las manos
son cosas del pasado
Cuerpos calientes cubiertos de sudor cojiendo
con una nota de adiós en la mañana
es ahora nuestro modo de ser
Respecto, sinceridad, y confianza
son palabras olvidadas
Decepcion, desilucion, y egoísmo
Ahora son nuestra palabras sagradas
I wrote this poem in late 2007 when I was depressed about my life. Again, instead of going to therapy, I just wrote a poem about it. Lol.
Tainted dreams
of life is what
I have left.
A career of abstract
nothingness lies
before me.
Chaotic and sensitive off springs
I must put before me.
Frigidity and
senility in my
marital bed lie
next to me.
Is this it? Is this
what is left
of my
foolish childhood dreams.
Scattered dreams
in my past
become failures
of my present.
Will my soul
ever recuperate
from the cost?
Will I ever be that
hopeful again?
Aquí esta la versión en Español:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/08/08/poesia-desgraciado-2/
Perhaps I’m crazy,
Perhaps I’m dramatic
But I must say
You’re a traitor
for what you did to me
Causing me so much heartbreak
and misery
Pretending to “love me”
Behind your “nice guy” disguise
was really an asshole
who lured me with sweet lies
into a web of treachery
and infidelity
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from this even if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it:
I wanted to sleep
Sleep beckoned me
Like a magical place
Where I could forget
Forget-
The burdens and responsibilities
Forget-
The performance reviews, the report cards, the bills
Forget-
The husband, the kids, the friends
I wanted to sleep
So I planned my journey there
Call in sick, act natural,
Take the bottle of xanax
I wrote love letters
To my children, my husband, and friends
Just in case I fell in a forever dream
I wanted to sleep
Selfishly, without interruptions
I wanted to sleep
So I didn’t have to think
About my mediocre and suburban reality
My lost dreams of greatness
My wastefulness on this earth
I wanted to sleep
But I was interrupted
By my husband shaking me
Halfway carrying me
To the couch, forcing coffee
Down my throat
I wanted to sleep
But I had to wake up
And endure the reality of life
I wrote this in 2007 about my husband. I was frustrated that he was always so guarded with his emotions and his past. I hated that I could give him my vulnerability and he couldn’t give me his. Looking back now, I should have realized how incompatible we were at the time, but my stubborn and optimistic self wanted things to badly work.
A steel and locked fence guards you.
It does its job well.
Your insecurities and emotions never
come out to play with mine.
Your past never comes out to
join mine in a game of nostalgia.
Will your fence ever open for me?
I wrote this poem in the fall of 2007. I wrote this one about my husband. It was a good moment but even during the good moments, I’m still insecure.
Veins of love’s
moss grow
every minute
I’m with you
Will the veins
ever run out
of moss?
Will you ever
leave me?
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.
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
I wrote this poem in early 2006 about my husband. We have always had completely different love languages.
Emotions for you
sway from
Good to bad
Every day
And I wonder
Why “we” can’t ever be
Balanced
Instead of
the disorganized mess
that we are
For the English version of this poem, click the link below:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/21/poetry-sea-of-misery/
Estoy aqui ahogandome
en un mar de desgracia
por tu egoísmo
Gracias por tirar me
en un infierno de soledad
Me usaste
como una inútil
Para darte cuenta
lo mucho que amabas a otra
una pesadilla de mentiras,traición, y decepción
estaban detrás de esos besos celestiales
palabras y caricias bonitas
Doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Rain on the pane”
Doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. The prompt was “Unburnt Pages”.
Doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “A Letter from Hell”.
Day 27 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Up in Flames”
Doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Write me a Poem ” .
Life on the BPD 