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Poetry: Same Old Ugly Song

This was written in November of 2001 after a breakup. I think of 20 year old naive me that put her all of her trust into this guy who appeared to be a “nice guy” only to be deceived later on. I don’t remember how or when but suddenly I was writing all of these poems to process the anger after that deception. How I process things after a traumatic event has changed throughout the years but it has always involved writing.

At first I thought your love was sweet

You even had me at your feet

Then you did a 180 turn

And I finally learned

That you were the same old ugly song

Just another pathetic con

So my love turned into an ocean of hate

Of realizing way too late

How blind I had been to see

that you were only using me

And it burns me so bad

That you drove me into a quicksand of sad

And unfortunately I still remember 

That loving and understanding was what we were

But you ruined that when you went to her

And that’s what caused “us” to go under

And I hope you and her were meant to be

Because you’ve seen the last of me

I am completely done

Waiting for the day you’ll come

Even though I may be lonely 

I have to accept you’re just a bad memory

Now I have to go on

Hoping I won’t end up with 

The same old ugly song

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Poetry: To the One Who Claimed to Love Me

I wrote this in the summer of 2019 during a break from “C”. I think that during this break, I thought we were really done and I was super salty about it.

Me in the Summer of 2019

To the one that claimed to love me

I was yours, you had me

But you decided to dispose of me

I wrote poetry about you

Thinking your feelings were true

But my feelings, you made fun of

By claiming you felt love

You treated me like a barbie doll

And you told me over and over and over again

I love you

When your words should have been 

I love fucking you

You claimed to not be “that guy”

Yet you almost made me want to die

You claimed to be different

But you turned out to be the same

Asshole man 

You claimed I was the only one

But I was one of many you used for fun

You acted like you cared 

You wore your lies well

And now that our lust filled 

Fiasco is done

I still don’t regret that I was the one

Who loved you honestly, genuinely,

Purely-

And you blew your chance 

At ever having me

You were a hard lesson to learn 

And I was the girl 

You weren’t ready for 

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Poetry: Merry Go Round of Fuckery

I wrote this in the summer of 2019 about C when we were on another break. Thinking back on this period in my life when I would get so mad about him ghosting again and again and going back to him again and again feels so strange now. I don’t feel like the same person that wrote this.

me in the summer of 2019

We’re back here once again

You ghost, you ignore, you abandon

And I beg you to come back

It’s our merry go round of fuckery

I’m mad,I’m sad, I’m done

I’m finally almost recovered 

From you-

Trying to forget you, mourning you,

 Accepting you’re gone –

And then a text from you

It’s our merry go round of fuckery

Crying, writing, running

Each day it gets easier

Learning to forget you

But then, a “how are you”

Appears on my phone

It’s our merry go round of fuckery

Will you ever go away?

Am I always going to be this insane?

When will I get off from 

   Our merry go round of fuckery?

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Poetry: My Bad Habit

I wrote this about C. in the late summer of 2020 after we were yet on another break. I guess the sex really made me obsess over him.

me in the summer of 2020

I can’t turn my body off 

From wanting you

Even if you make my heart blue

You take up space in my brain

Even when you bring me so much pain

Why does lust make me so blind?

You are my obsession 

Even after your devastation

You show up in my dreams

I wish you didn’t exist 

I wish there was a spell

To forget how you made me melt 

I’m sure that time

Will make your memory fade

And will time

make me heal from 

The experience of you 

I just wish that time

Would speed up so that

You were only a distant memory

That I already learned to forget

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Poetry: Reborn

I wrote this in late 2007 as I reflecting about my life and how much I had changed.

The nostalgic ocean

reminds me of

everything that 

I’ve lost.

Former flames, former friends

swept in a 

wave from under me.

My former self

died in that wave.

When the wave

came back…

I was stronger 

and better.

I was reborn again.

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Poetry: Ghost of Mamacita

I wrote this poem in 2018 shortly after the death of my maternal grandmother/mamacita. My grandmother lived in a time where her opportunities were very limited by society’s rules about what a woman should be.

The ghost of my grandmother 

  hangs above me 

Her spirit swallows and 

  Envelops me-

It tells me to live

  a life full of passion and love

Without self imposed boundaries

It tells me to stop 

 being afraid of my promise 

  and potential

  and takes risks and 

  Go for my dreams

  No matter how many 

    obstacles stand in my way

It tells me that I only 

 have one life left to live

And I need to start 

living it fully instead

 of standing on the sidelines

Waiting for something or someone 

to rescue me

It tells me 

Stop waiting

Now it’s your turn

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Poetry: Independence Day (a love poem)

I wrote this poem in the summer of 2019 when C had ghosted me for the millionth time and I thought that I was finally done with him and I was determined not to go back with him. Of course, that wouldn’t be the case. This relates to one of my BPD traits which is fear of abandonment. I think one of the reasons I kept letting him come back.

Me in the Summer of 2019 when I wrote this poem

I’m finally free 

Of the spell 

You have over me

I’m finally free

Of the butterflies 

I felt when I saw your text

I’m no longer blinded

By your callous ways

I will no longer tolerate

Your undercover mistreatment

I can no longer be part of

My continuing self destruction

I’ve learned to stay away

From the intensity of your gaze

I’ve learned to love myself enough

To stop holding on to your false love

I’ve learned to stop ruining my life..

Because of our connection?

Our chemistry?

Nah, it’s just bomb ass sex. 

I’ve learned that my self worth 

Can’t be tied to you, my toxic lover

My self worth

Is tied into my self love

Into loving the best parts 

And the worst parts of me

But most of all I’ve learned 

That no amount of orgasms

Or passionate kisses

Or sparks 

Are worth me agonizing 

Once again

If I’m good enough

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Reflection: Mr.Toxic is well not Toxic

So it’s no secret if you have been reading my blog that I have been calling the guy that I’ve been involved in a tumultuous situationship with- TOXIC. Most of the time, when I describe him to people, I talk about him being terrible, bad, and Toxic. Now, I’m not excusing his behavior that at times has been detrimental to me and has made me feel unsafe BUT I realized the other day-he’s just a person. He’s a person with many issues and trauma. I had this tendency to blame him  for a lot of my issues instead of taking accountability for my part in our toxic situationship.  I really had to look at myself in an honest way and I realize how easy it is to blame him or make him the villain of our tumultuous situationship. It was easy to write all of this poetry and these journal entries about him about how he treated me like shit. What has not been easy is admitting my own part. Admitting that I had my own toxic patterns and  issues that I brought to our situationship. That  he really showed me who he was at first and instead of really seeing him,I did what I almost always do in relationships;I fell in love with his potential and for the person I wanted him to be. He has ghosted me and  broken communication with me so many times and that shit hurt my soul.  However, I’ve also lied to him and gone crazy on him more times than I can count. I’ve gone to his house for the sole purpose of yelling at him and  I lied to him for a year and a 1/2 about the fact that I was in another relationship. And he’s forgiven me time again and time again. I’m not proud or saying that I deserve the shitty way he’s treated but I have to admit that I’ve been almost equally as shitty to him. 

 I would also complain that he’s an alcoholic but guess who often brought him the beer . It was me, I was the enabler. So while it would still be easy to call him toxic or bad I really don’t think he deserves that title. I think that like most of us he’s trying to do his best with his issues and sometimes that best can look shitty to other people. And I don’t want people to think I’m idolizing him. I think that I’m really taking a hard honest look at myself and at him at this point. I’m trying to make sense and find peace with this situation with him. There is an appeal of going back to him continually and while it has to do with this intense chemistry and the amazing and mind blowing sex; it has to do with much more than that. The other night when I saw him he told me he felt like he didn’t belong anywhere and it’s strange how much I relate to that. Also, we both get how dark we can be, how irrational and crazy we both can be and it doesn’t scare either of us away. We just accept that part without promises or expectations of anything that resembles a relationship or commitment to each other. The other night we both agreed we possibly won’t ever be ready for a relationship with each other or with other people. We both feel too damaged beyond repair to ever be of any good to anyone in a romantic way. I used to hate myself for caring about him,  or going back to him BUT I’m done doing that. It’s been a long and hard 3 year journey to get here: peace and acceptance.  Instead, I forgive him and myself for past wrongs and learn to enjoy the fun and crazy times we share.  Or as my mom says, live for the moment. With him, it really is living life on the borderline.  

us in late 2018

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Poetry: She Flew

I wrote this poem in February of 2006 when my mother in law passed away suddenly. I knew for a short time but she was one of the most gracious and kindest individuals I ever met.

She flew one afternoon without warning

To a place unknown 

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

And now everyone left behind 

has  puddles dripping from their eyes

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

Regrets and remorse

Have become our two worlds

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

No fancy words could ever express

How it feels to lose your best

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

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Poetry: Don’t

I wrote this poem 2002 and it was yet another poem inspired by the bio dad of my oldest child. For many years. I had so much unresolved rage and anger about how he abandoned my son and used poetry as a way to process it.

Don’t even try to understand me

You don’t even know me

I was born with your DNA

But to you, I have nothing to say

I once was a babe, a boy

And now a man

Don’t pretend to give a damn

I’ve done grown up to become

A man unlike you that doesn’t run

No thanks to you “Dad” 

You left when I was a mere lad 

So please go on on your way

I can’t stand the sight of you

Another day

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Poetry: In the ICU

I wrote this poem in 2018 when my grandmother passed away. She was in the ICU for about a week before she passed and it was tough on the family.

Me with my Grandmother in 2015 or 2016

She lies between this world and the next

She can’t decide between her husband 

 Or her kids 

She is tired, she is drained, she is 94

She lies between this world and the next

She needs to let her body decide a final rest

But her spirit wants to stay 

withinIn the cocoon of her family

She lies between this world and the next

She slowly feels her ancient and battered body 

Give up…. 

It is tired of the endless pain

And her spirit

slowly agrees

And 

Lets her leave in peace to the heaven that is him

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Poetry: Another Pathetic Guy

I wrote this funny poem after a really bad date in 2001. I was obviously very salty at the time.

I write the same pathetic poem

  about another pathetic guy

From the first conversation 

  you didn’t seem to have an ounce of promise

  With your arrogant way of talking

but I decided to give you a chance anyways

But little would I know

  how you would try to make me feel

 Like some ignorant ho

Little would I know

I would enjoy your landlord’s company

  more than your own

Never had I seen 

  how arrogant somebody could be

Never had I felt 

  such repulse towards a male

Never will I see

  a future between you and me