I wrote this poem in October of 2019.
And just when I think I have it all figured out–
Everything falls apart again
the universe has a funny way of humbling me
just when I think I finally have it together
When does it get easier?
Am I being punished for not conforming
to society’s expectations of me?
Should I be sorry for not wanting to just be
a wife and mother?
Will I ever be free of society’s shackles
thrusted upon me?
I wrote this poem in in October of 2024.
I keep saying I’ve changed and that I’m different
but I still have an appetitive for self destruction
it’s the only excuse I can come up for letting you
near me and finding myself in a spiral of self implosion
is there something in me left to heal for me
to keep allowing you to make a fool out of me
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
we went from devils to fools within a span of a couple of years
it’s a journey that almost broke us
one that needed to be taken apart
you needed to find out who you were without alcohol
I needed to find out who I was without a lover
and when we met again
I was deathly afraid to let you back in
and kept my guard up
making sure we didn’t fall back into the toxicity
we used to bask in
and various times I thought that meant
blocking you, ghosting you, taking what you said personally
but really it was me being careful with my ego and energy
not wanting to risk another emotional relapse
and the last time I let you go
I really thought we were done
but on a september night, you texted again
And while I tried to keep it platonic
I couldn’t help myself and found myself
in your arms once again
trying desperately to keep it casual,
to say no strings attached at all,
you can leave when you want to
but how can I do this when I keep
thinking about you
and suddenly I find myself a fool
in our journey
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Fuck you google photos for reminding me of my past trauma and happiness
I want to move the fuck on-live in my present-plan for my future
and you’re here reminding me of someone I long to forget-
“Memories together” more like “trauma bonding together” or
“fabulously failing at this relationship together”
How many years must past before you stop reminding me
of my love fiascos
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
rest in peace and in power Dr.Vance
you were one of the best things about UGA
you were one of the reasons I got up in the morning
excited to go to class and learn
I never felt like an other or an outsider
as you taught us about Peppys and Johnson’s
many misadventures
it was one of the few classes at UGA where
I was fully engaged
it was one of the reasons why getting a degree
at UGA meant something
but alas, you needed your wings to be free
and fly away from your sickness
I hope you know how much you inspired
your students
I hope that at the end, you understood
how your creativity was a light in this world
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
In front of our fireplace I felt your warmth-
as you took me in your embrace
and I felt the glow of your love cover me-
Is this for real? Am I really here?
With someone who really, truly accepts me??
And won’t ever leave
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
Lavender and lace daydreams fill up my head
when I’m in love
everything soft, everything vulnerable,
everything oh so delicate and pretty
but then reality hits and the daydreams turn into
gray and somber nightmares
everything rough, everything violent
everything hard and ugly
and I wonder over and over again
what is wrong with me
why do they all leave?
am I not worthy?
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I tell myself I’m not capable of love-
but that’s another lie
the truth is I’m very capable of love
But I’m afraid of it, I’m terrified of showing my vulnerability
only to once again be proven wrong, to once again go crazy
Only to once again endure the abandonment of another lover
So I lie to myself and say I’m not capable of love
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
moments from the past scatter into our present
you want to forget who we once were
while I try my best to make light of it
and say but we had fun
but you tell me, erase the poems,
forget the stories
Respectful I tell you “no”
we’re a story of redemption
that needs to be told
we’re something of a miracle
to still be standing here alive
and thriving
so while you want to forget
your story of villain and sinner
I advice you not to
own it babe, one day you’ll view it
as a testament of your resilience
and your own story of empowerment
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
The lighthouse stood on the shore and I swam to it-
the lighthouse was full of love-
a love I had always dreamed of-
it was solid and unlike water which runs through my hands
a love who will never leave and truly accepts me
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
3 years ago I took the wheel for the first time by myself
and there was no going to the dependent woman I once was
3 years ago I said fuck it, if I crash and die, it will be fine
after all I’ve been suicidal since I could remember
3 years ago I took the keys and landed in the driver’s seat
And from that day on, I understood the power I held within
and how never again I’ll give that power to others
I wrote this poem in October of 2020.
He’ll ask me,
“How are you?
And I wanted to say–
“Miserable. Bad. sad. I hate you.
I wished for your death a thousand times.
I miss you. I love you.”
Instead, I said, “I’m okay”
And in the silence between our texts
I wondered
“Why? Why did he come back?
Why did I let him back in ?
Why do I love him?”
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
beneath the fog, I almost crashed my car
I wasn’t drunk, just under the influence of seroquel
and crazy from the euphoria
just experienced in the arms of my ex lover
Beneath the fog, I almost crashed my car
but I used all of my DBT skills to calm down
and manage to park my car at a gas station
To gain my composure
and suddenly Kid LAROI is blasting
from some zoomer’s truck
with a message for me from the universe
that I’d be alright despite
life’s almost disasters
and that the sexual creature I’ve held with
for most than two years
is alive and well
and ready to make up for lost time
I wrote this poem in October of 2024.
just call me J.Lo without the ass because my ex
(if we can even call him that) came back to me
after 2 years of sobriety
we’re the low rent version of Bennifer
since we’re not millionaires
or celebrities (yet)
I’m just a working class immigrant poet
and he’s my ex whatevership nordic muse
I wrote this poem in October of 2020.
He swallowed 2 years of my life without meaning to.
He swallowed 2 years of my love that he never intended to
He swallowed all of my intense and innermost feelings
and left me with an emptiness inside.
He swallowed my confidence and turned me into a broken shell of a woman.
And slowly I’m trying to gather the broken pieces and repair my soul–
Life on the BPD 