I wrote this poem in March of 2019.
Alone in my solitude
I am again-
trying to get through
My bout of crippling loneliness
When all I want to do is disappear-
and escape from the life I created
The picture perfect life
where everyone and everything
seems to fit in an perfect puzzle
It’s a imperfect perfection
That’s slowly killing me,
breaking parts of my sanity,
Parts of the real me-
where I understand
henrik Ibsen’s protagonists
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
Sometimes I’m like fuck this healing journey
can I just go back to the woman I used to be
the woman who invited and welcome chaos in
the woman who needed a man to make her feel complete
the woman who bought into society’s conditioning about who she should be
can I just be her for a day or two
To get some perspective as to why this journey is so important to me
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
He came into my life on a cold february night-
He decided to make a dramatic entrance
on my 24th birthday
He didn’t mean to steal my thunder as he tried
to make his entrance-a month beforehand
But fortunately the doctors stopped
his almost too sudden arrival
But that cold February night-
was the right time for him
I wanted to go the natural route
but he had other plans with the horrible pain he caused
EPIDURAL PLEASE-LIKE RIGHT NOW
OR I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M GETTING
THIS CHILD OUT
Within minutes he was out and once again
I was in love but this time with the life I created
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
I stumble and fall all the time
but no one knows about it
I’m great at masking my pain
with makeup, pretty dress, and statuses
about how I’m living my best life
when in reality, I fantasize about disappearing
into a black hole
because life feels like a terrible chore
that messes with my sensitive soul
I wrote this in February of 2019
Mother of three
What does that even mean?
Responsibilities, obligations, duties
Alcohol and going out are taboo for me
Songs of sacrifices and martyrdom
Are the tunes I hum
Dinner with friends and late
Night concerts are just WRONG!
Soccer games and play dates
Are my important dates
No time to spend
With my lifetime mates?
Mother of three,
Will I ever be free?
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I fall in love and obsessed over these concepts over who I should be,
over who I should love, over who I should mirror
I read and read books on BPD, mental health, and trauma constantly
I take advice from influencers, poets, and psychologists on social media
Seriously thinking this is how I heal, this is how I become healthy
but that’s a lie-
while everything I do helps me
I need to listen to my intuition more
I need to trust myself more
and acknowledge I’m doing enough
and come to an understanding I am on my heroine’s journey
that’s unique only to me
honor my truth within me, accept it, and that’s how I begin to really heal
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’m graduating from writing about revenge and everyone who has harmed me
I’m switched this narrative from woman scorned and full of spite
To a woman reborned opened to love and joy in life
While it’s fun to be petty and mean
It’s better for me to reclaim the corny romantic in me
the one I’ve kept hidden for 18 months
the one who cries at the end of rom coms
the one who’s desperate to fall in love again
to continue this narrative about how I’m in love with my solitude
no longer suits me
when I have a universe of love to give
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
am I reading too much into the attention and energy you’re giving me
the casual messages, the comments on my posts
the nervous vibe and the hug you gave me the first time we met
It felt like chemistry
Am I even your type?
Or is this the beginning of beautiful friendship
One that will last, one that will be healthy
Without the complications and expectations
that lust or love brings
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
I’m at year 42 and I’m only getting started on my heroine’s journey
I’ve learned so much about myself and my toxic patterns in year 41
I understand now how my overreactions, my need to avoid conflict
my need to please were all trauma responses learned from childhood
where my emotions were never validated
I now hold a world of knowledge, confidence, and power within me
and on year 42, I ready to act like the badass Incan Queen
I make myself out to be
Except this year I’ll act out of love and compassion
and not out of revenge and spite
even when I’m pissed, angry at someone or at something
I need to dig in deep and feel that grief
instead of immediately throwing out accusations
and blaming everyone but me
Understand it’s me projecting my insecurities
This year I’ll continue my heroine’s journey in healing and recovery
but I’ll try to do it more with grace, with intent and compassion
for myself and others
I’ll cover myself in love from God, the universe, and my ancestors
with all of that love act out of a pure and intentional energy
that will continue to help grow and evolve
I wrote this poem in February of 2020.
Eating away my emotions with junk food and sugar
is healthier than meth and taking pills to sleep forever
Each bite I take and swallow keeps me alive
and further from a sweet death that tempts me
Food becomes the driving force behind my mediocre existence
until I can find a new obsession
my favorite pair of shoes are my black combat boots. I bought them sometime in the summer of 2021 during an impulsive shopping spree. They’re taken me to live shows and they are what I wear every time I go to perform at a new open mic. I also wore them with my Harley Quinn outfit for Halloween of 2021. They’re also one of my most comfortable pair of shoes and they go with a lot of my outfits. I’ve worn them with dresses, jeans, and shorts. It’s a weird thing to say but I feel like these boots help build up my confidence at a time when I was feeling shitty about myself and now they’ve become a very important part of my aesthetic. Every time I wear these boots with my dress beige dress to work, my coworkers know I’m moody AF and tread carefully. I’ve also worn them on my plane trip to Peru last year. So yeah, they’ve taken me to my homeland and back. It was a bitch to take them off for the TSA checkpoint but it was worth it so my fit was right.
I wrote this poem in February of 2020.
Comfortable will keep you locked
in loveless marriage
Comfortable will keep you trapped
in an easy and boring job
Comfortable will keep you miserable
in a mediocre life
Comfortable will keep you settling
for less than you deserve
Comfortable will find you one day
And make you swallow a bottle of pills
so you can sleep away
your comfortable and mediocre existence
I wrote this poem in February of 2023.
This time I feel like I’ve finally settled most of my soul’s score
by doing so much inner work
I still have toxic and angry moments but they no longer consume me
This year I’m manifesting a new kind of love energy
Someone who can match my wild and creative energy
Someone who values me as a whole person
and doesn’t just fall in lust with my body
Someone brave enough to love me and doesn’t scare easily
when I’m challenging and moody
this year I’m opening myself to love energy
who makes me laugh, who inspires me
I think I’m finally ready
Life on the BPD 