I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
love makes me feel trapped
trapped in a cage of desire and emotions
that I want to escape from
and I still try thinking this time
it will be different except it never is
so I’m giving up for a while-
Giving myself time to prepare for my next victim
here is the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Dear Brad
Queridisimo Brad-
lo siento por no dejar que me lleves a tu cama
y que me uses como te dé la gana
es que aprendi mi leccion
y ahora entendió que soy un tesoro
que no puede gastar su energía
en alguien que no mas me quiere
por un ratito y despues se va
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the facade of equality is cloaked in good intentions and lovely words-
and while laws have been passed to prevent discrimination
and to try to level the game of success,
it’s all a sham, it’s all a con
we still live in a world where the color of your skin and social status
and gender determine your prosperity
here is the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Caught Between
entreverada entre dos mundos en oposición
perdió mi lenguaje y los pocos recuerdo de mi patria
y sigo siendo una extranjera en mi patria adoptiva
y nunca aceptada-
me siento rechazada y sin una identidad
trato de encajar en dos culturas que me acusan
de nunca ser suficiente
y vivo un conflicto internal
y un dia me harto y digo me vale madre
lo que los peruanos y americanos digan o piensen de mi
la unica opinion que vale, que importa es la mía
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
did you drink your water today?
did you remind yourself you’re worthy of love?
did you understand you were always enough?
will you repeat after me-
I won’t run away from or suppress my feelings
I need to face my emotions head on
or else I’ll break down
aqui esta la version en espanol:
Poesia: Falsa Esperanza
you were my hope in love restored
everything I had dreamed of
everything I had wished for
and it was nice for a while-
getting lost in our love
thinking it was safe,
thinking it could be my permanent sanctuary
until one day like clockwork
you changed your mind and decided I wasn’t enough
and I was left wondering “what the fuck is wrong with me?”
The door of creativity has opened for me and there’s no going back-
Writing has become my new obsession-
with it I let out years of my pent up frustration and rage
I don’t even understand having a constant need to write
every single thing
my writer’s block is now a distant memory
as my pen lets out all of my life’s stories of sorrow and joy
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
At 5 am, I woke up and wrote a 4 page poem
about how I wasn’t enough and proceeded to crash my car
and my therapist asked if I wanted to die-
And I was like “nah, I just couldn’t reign my impulsivity in”
at least this time I got control of the car and didn’t fuck
anyone else up
Here is the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Nothing More
como una tonta doy lo mejor de mi y me conformo con lo más mínimo
para sentir algo de amor
como una tonta me achicó hasta no existir para acomodarme a tu ego
como una tonta me quedo calladita y guardo mis opiniones dentro de mi
para que no me dejes
como una tonta pienso que esta vez tendré una fin feliz
por tanto esfuerzo que hago
como una tonta siempre repito la misma tragedia de amor
sin aprender mi lección
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
The rain falls steadily in August
and I feel a sense of dread, a sense of hopelessness
and I want to dwell on everything I lack,
on everything I’m a failure at-
But I stop myself because while sadness has served as inspiration
and has a place in my mind and life
I can’t allow it to take over my life and consume me
because this is not my whole story
I’m more than being sad and angry
here is the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Stupid Game
Maldita sea este juego de amor
me siento un peón sin poder, sin control
y no importa lo que hago
siempre pierdo mi cabeza y mi alma
siempre pierdo mi razon y mi corazón
y terminó destrozada y lastimada
por ser terca y estúpida y siempre perder
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My default setting must be sad
because when a wave of happiness comes
all I can feel is anxiety
a stabbing in my gut that makes me nauseous
maybe I’m still getting used to this new feeling
of joy and excitement in my life
Maybe I don’t know how to deal with
finally being healthy and happy
maybe I’m just used to my constant state of misery
sometimes I am Salma,
Sexy, alluring, playful
and a world of fun
Sometimes I am Sylvia
Angry, frustrated, contemplative
and fascinated with death
It depends on who I’m with
and which woman they inspire me to be
I want to find someone I can be both with
A man who loves both the Salma and Sylvia in me
Here’s the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: Lust High
por ti abriré el cerco alrededor de mi corazón
porque inspiras confianza y ternura
porque siento que contigo puedo encontrar la esperanza
de nuevo en entregar mi vulnerabilidad
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I used to water my roots with the supposed love of others
their compliments, their energy made me whole
but eventually they’d tired of being my water, my earth
my everything and leave
And I was left once again incomplete-
until one day I learned to water my roots with my tears,
my strength, my self-love
And now my growth and potential are infinite
Life on the BPD 