Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/26/poetry-unfair/
Me siento
molesta, enojada, frustrada
cuando pienso en ti
Estoy
deprimida, miserable, desilusionada
desde que me abandonaste
Mientras tu estas
Feliz, reluciente, brillante
eres un idiota miserable
Es injusto
que el destino me lleve a alguien
que me daría un dolor tan profundo
I wrote this in 2004 and revised it recently. It’s not based on anything from real life.
They’re driving back from the theater. All evening he’s been quiet and she wonders what is going on. She reaches for his hand but he won’t give it to her. She tries to look into his eyes and he looks away.She can feel him cold and distant. She no longer recognizes what is supposed to be “them”. With tears in her eyes, she says, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing.” he says as he’s still evading her eyes.
“Do you still love me?” she asks with a quivering voice.
“I’m sorry.I’m in love with someone else. It’s nothing you did. These things happen, I hope–
“STOP!” she yells. She’s barely holding it together at this point.
“I’m really sorry, I just want to-”
“STOP! I’m done with this. Stop the car.” she screams at him.
“You’re being crazy, at least let me-”
“NO. I want nothing from you! Stop the car NOW!”
“You need to calm — he stops mid sentence as he sees her taking off her seat belt and unlocking the door. He stops the car. He says, “I just want–”
“Fuck what you want” she says as she gets out of the car.
“But I-”
“There is nothing left to say”. She tells him. She walks away while she cries and laughs.She whispers to herself “fuck.once again”.
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?
Quiero borrar tu cara
de mi mente
y
Fregar tus besos
de mis labios
Quiero olvidarme de ti
I wrote this in 2003 about some random dude.
I love you so much it hurts
You put me through this sweet silent torture
Of your evil seductive ways
I almost die of ecstasy
I wrote this in 2003 about Damon who I was seeing again.
Your strange ways confuse me
One moment you hold me in your arms
The next moment you want someone else in your arms
Do you want to break our amorous ties?
Was the love you professed another one of your lies?
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?
Here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/24/poetry-excuses/
Necesito estar solo
era tu excusa
no quieres herirme
fue lo que me dijiste
Todavia la amo
es lo que querías decirme
un corto pasatiempo
fui lo que yo signifique para ti
I wrote this in 2006.
Rising from a deep sleep
That had become our marital bed
Passion woke up
In a sudden caress
Of your rough hands
On my soft bare back
Your eyes shone on me again
With that long lost stare
Desire
Our long lost friend
Is back
To reclaim us
From our endlessly deep and dreamless sleep
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
Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de John. Pensaba que a lo mejor cambaría de parecer pronto pero no fue así.
Podría ser que yo no soy
Aquella mujer
A la cual no quieres ligarte
Podría ser que yo no soy
Aquella chica
Que siempre va a misa
Podría ser que yo no soy
Aquella princesa
Que no te compadezca
Pero después de probar
Estos deliciosos labios
Nunca dirás adiós
Y después de sentir
Mi cuerpo dedicado a ti
Solo pensaras en mi
Y después de estar conmigo
Conocerás el amor verdadero
Y no te arrepentirás
De echar todo lo que podría ser
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 in March of 2020 as I was reflecting on my suicide attempt in December of 2016. I don’t remember writing this poem but that could be because it was a crazy time for me since I was an essential worker during COVID.
Appearances were kept well for 15 years
the husband, the salaried job, the 3 off springs
I pretended like everything was fine
And yet there were ominous signs
I never felt like my authentic self
and always felt false
I tried on this so called suburban bliss
and mediocre routines
but knew it just wasn’t me
So I ended up in profound misery
And one day I wanted to forever sleep
To forget my mediocre reality
I took 15 numb feeling pills
one for every pseudo happy year
I wanted to slip into a forever dream
to never wake up to my false stability
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
Pensaba que yo era la única
que ocupaba un sitio en tu corazón
nunca pense que llegaria el momento
que me dirias “ya no te amo”
nunca cruzó en mi mento
que había otra mujer
Pensaba que teniamos mas tiempo
ahora estas en mi estante de imbéciles
Life on the BPD 