I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
waited for you at the bar as I downed a margarita
anxiety and anticipation sat in my belly
wondering if I could be your dream girl
wondering if this time you’d kiss me
Wondering if there would ever come a day
I’d regret meeting you
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
never understood why you took us with you
maybe it was to assuage your guilt
maybe it was say you really did nice things
for me and my brother
inviting us to an all day road trip to Tijuana
in your air conditioned Blazer
silent as mice and on our best behavior
to not disturb you, your husband and your son
it was all so strange
the only thing I can remember
was the messiest hamburgers
we needed a hundred napkins to eat
and the picture with the donkey
maybe you were kind and graceful
with us at times
but all of that has been lost with the trauma
you incurred on us I’ve blocked out
and 34 years later in my middle age
sitting in my hot car in between jobs
I still don’t understand why you took
us with you
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
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.
Sometimes, I wish I could go back to being a princess
go back to being a damsel in distress
needing to be saved, maybe then I wouldn’t be so lonely
but then I think of the sacrifices have to make
to keep up that persona
and every time it’s costs me my dignity and sanity
every time I’ve ended up almost committed in the psych ward
so for mine and my kids sake
I’ve burned my dreams of becoming a princess again
and keep on being the powerful and independent queen I am
living life according to my terms, being selective
who I give my lips and hips to
and understanding that to become a princess again
Would be a demotion to my identity
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
my body keeps score even when I think I’m better
even though I’ve found closure and made peace
with most of my demons
my body keeps score on certain dates
and remembers unintentional trauma inflicted
and the great impact it had on me
great emotional earthquakes that shook
and broke the core of my soul
leading to breakdowns and breakthroughs
understanding and accepting who and what’s
right for me and what isn’t
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
always second choice, a lifetime full of heather moments
the universe makes a mockery out of me
putting me in contests I never win
never being smart enough, pretty enough, American enough
will I ever be chosen?
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
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability
here’s the 2006 poem “dreams” that inspired this poem:
forgotten dreams remembered
in a bout of depression
I wanted to be much more than this
an overwhelmed mom of two
trying her best but still failing
an chaotic mess who doesn’t
know who she is
underneath the burdens
and expectations placed on her
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
Copy and paste, copy and paste, copy and paste
Partners, unhealthy love patterns, delusions of love
it happens over and over again
And I try my best to change this narrative
and sometimes it seems to work
but most of the time it was me denying what’s in front of me
A man who treats me like his inferior
Allowing him to step on my boundaries
trying to keep myself small enough so he doesn’t leave
and I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened to me
And I’m fucking tired of it
So I put a pause on love for a while
Until I can figure out how to produce healthy love energy
And ensure I don’t settle again for anyone
who treats me less than the majestic and magical queen that I am
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
love ties me up and binds with a rope of shame
slowly I fade away until I’m nothing
I don’t recognize who I am
Friends tell me I’ve changed
I tell them they’re crazy
messages appear in dreams
I’m living a fake life
who am i? who am i? who am i?
I wrote this poem in September of 2024.
beast hurry up and come find me
it’s been a year since I’ve been married
two years since I had sex
and three years since I’ve been
in real relationship
I’m a thirsty and horny yearning
to break my vow of celibacy
Life on the BPD 