This is my response to prompt #10: One thing you could not give up
You might as well do radical lobotomy
before you make me give up writing
You’d be asking me to give up
one of the things I most love–
my creativity with poetry and prose
brings me purpose and meaning on my good days
and helps me stay alive on my bad days
so if you ever ask me to give up my paper and pen
Understand you’d be asking for my slow death
I wrote this in October of 2007.
Unanswered whys continuously haunt me
Why didn’t we last?
Why did “us” end?
We were the best love story
Where was our happy ending?
Why did our romance suffer an
abrupt and cruel end?
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?
Doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Rain on the pane”
Day 23 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “From the Ashes of the Phoenix” . The artwork is “Mama Quilla” by artist Rodrigo Elgueta in 2001.
Day 16 of this doing this 31-day prompt poetry challenge. The prompt of today is “Never Again”.
Day 12 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt is “My Demons Write Poetry”.
Day 7 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was “Crystal Tears”
From the ages of 18 to 23, I worked for a government agency as an interpreter. I was well-liked by many of my coworkers and my first supervisor was appreciative of me. I was very good at my job and even cross-trained in many other areas that didn’t “pertain to my job”. However, at that job, I was also bullied and discriminated against for being Latina. I was also slut-shamed by my second supervisor and coworkers the latter 2 years I was there. I don’t want to say I deserved being slut-shamed but I’ll just say that I trusted the wrong coworkers with my private life and they went on to gossip about me to everyone. It was also a very stressful environment because of the work I did and clients I had to interact with. My depression and anxiety went haywire. In 2003, I decided to enroll in my local community college and major in English. In 2004, I was trying to go to school full time, work full time, and deal with my child’s new autism diagnosis. I was breaking down mentally and something had to give so I quit this job. I was fucking done. And this poem was inspired by that moment. I thought I had processed this trauma until it came back up in therapy in the summer of 2021. I didn’t realize it at the time but I had suffered a deep racial trauma that impacted me and still triggered reactions in me. I was angry. There is actually way more to this story and one day I’ll share it when I’m ready.
This was the hardest thing I did
but it had to be done
I couldn’t stand the gossip
or the two faces of everyone
the way they pretended to be my friend
but the minute I turned my back to them
they talked like I was the biggest wench
so much envy and hate
I HAVE TO ESCAPE
FROM THIS MISERABLE FATE!
so today I resigned
I didn’t tell them why
all I know is that for the first time
in a really long time
I feel something like happy
so long to the only place I have known
for an almost five year term
for once I breathe a sigh of relief
I finally had the courage to leave
so long to the hypocrisy of this place
to let myself stay here for another day
would only be a fucking waste
Life on the BPD 