here’s the english version of this poem:
poetry: your replacement
por mucho tiempo te odie por no ser un padre para el
pero después de tantos años veo que es mejor asi
porque tu reemplazo fue mucho mejor
le enseno a afeitarse, a manejar, y como ser un hombre
lleno de compasión e integridad
tu reemplazo todavía lo cuida
aunque el es un hombre hecho y derecho
tu reemplazo fue un buen padre
aunque el no lleva su sangre
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
Always has never been a friend of mine
because of the many lies I associate with it
I’ll always be here for you-
I’ll always love you
I’ll always be your friend
so now I never believe people who say always
Instead, I look at them with cynicism
And tell them, “that’s nice but I don’t believe you”
this poem is inspired by a poem I wrote in 2006 about my first baby daddy.
He turned out fine without you in his life
I understand now that it was for the best
that you weren’t a part of his story
I no longer hold resentment for you
your replacement taught him
all of the important things
how to shave, how to drive
compassion and kindness
your replacement still checks up on him
even though he’s a grown
your replacement was never called Dad
but your replacement is the only father
he’s ever known
I wrote this poem in april of 2023.
as I hug the tree, I feel the gentleness
of this most magnificent masterpiece of oak
it’s a reminder of God’s love
for my wretched soul
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: License
agobiada y frustrada desde una temprana edad
con la responsabilidad de mi maternidad
nunca tuve tiempo para apreciar la bendición que eran mis hijos
Nunca pude entender que mis hijos son el mejor regalos
que me pudo dar el universo
pero después de cumplir 40
y recibí un diagnóstico que cambiaría mi vida
Por fin pude sentir una gratitud verdadera por mis tres reyes
Por fin pude apreciar la felicidad que ellos me brindan
Por fin pude convertir mi historia de madre frustrada
a madre feliz y orgullosa
I wrote this poem in april of 2023.
I almost drowned in a whirlpool of shame today because I made a mistake
because I’m an imperfect human
but I breathe in deeply self compassion and grace
and accept this is a small blunder in my life
and it shouldn’t take up too much space in my mind
And I needed to be a friend to myself
Understand I won’t always be flawless-
Afterall I’m only mortal
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Praying for peace
At times, when calm evades
Trying to always be better
Regardless of what others think
In the best shape of her life
Cause of her routined exercise
In the best moment of her life
And no one can stop her
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
Anger trickles in throughout my body
I didn’t get enough sleep
and the monster of PMDD is creeping in
I scream at the universe
for playing a certain song on the radio
And I get annoyed by everything
I hate being so sensitive and triggered
by the stupidest shit
I hate being mentally ill
I hate how the smallest change in my routine
causes me to spiral into nonsensical circle of fury
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I exist between stocking and typing
I exist between boxes and documents
I exist between hip pain and carpal tunnel
I exist between grocery clerk and receptionist
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
new leaves spring up in April and I have hope once again
that everything will be okay
as God shows me his love through the beauty
of the changing of the seasons
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I divorce myself from drama
I marry the calm
I divorce myself from lies
I marry the truth
I divorce myself from faking it
I marry being authentic
I divorce myself from self hatred
I marry self love
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
hope appears in the leaves dancing on an almost spring day
and I sit in stillness and silence wondering what it means
Admiring the splendor of nature before me
understanding how beauty is found in the ordinary
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
The hands of ego and pride kept them apart
They chose themselves instead of following their hearts
it was tragic to see how many lies they weaved
I don’t love her, I don’t love him
they held on tightly to their anger, went back to their safety nets
it was more comfortable to do so then to fall back into their chaos
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
Finally comfortable in my skin
I’m no longer afraid to show off my majestic beauty
my curves comes one of the seven wonders of the world
and my face is a mosaic of my colonizer and indigenous ancestry
and now I grace the world with my beauty
posting endless selfies in various poses
some people may find it narcissistic
but if you possessed my goddess beauty
would you try to hide it?
Life on the BPD 