here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: False Fairy Tale
todos creen en nuestra obra de teatro
tienen la impresión que vivimos un cuento de hadas
si solo supieran como me insultas detrás de las puertas cerradas
o como mi almohada se moja con mis lagrimas por tu desprecio
estarían con sus bocas abiertas por la mentira tóxica
que vivimos cada dia
I reflect a lot on who I was, who I am, and who I will be-
and I’ve reach the conclusion that I’m proud of all three versions of me
Constantly fighting my demons no matter how viciously they came after me
Constantly reinventing and rebuilding myself even when the chaotic earthquakes
of life broke me apart
I reflect on the goddess, the beast in me who always refuses to give up
who continues to get and keep going no matter how hard life tries to break me down
1/19/23
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
When I start to lose myself, death calls out to me
like a potential lover
it whispers my name and invades my thoughts
it shows me the many ways to chase it
Drive as fast as you can and lose control(no one has to know)
Accidentally take too many of your prescription meds
(they’ll say you weren’t feeling well that day)
or go for a dramatic effect and cut your wrists
with your razor from work
(oops you mistook your skin for a box)
Death tries to tempt me in many ways
and I count to 10 and scream
this time you won’t win
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Puppet
me tenías como un titere siempre arrastrándome
de acuerdo a lo que tu querías, a lo que tu necesitabas
nunca preguntándome o pensando en lo que necesitaba
y aun así en un santo amén cortaste nuestro cuento de amor
porque aunque yo deje que me me jales a tu antojo
todavía no fui suficiente para ti y perdiste interés en mi
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I thought that for once I had a healthy kind of love but I was wrong-
Healthy doesn’t carry lies, toning myself down, or accommodate in extremes
Healthy is not running from conflict or avoiding hard conversations
Healthy is not hiding the worst parts of myself because I’m too scared to be alone
Even now, I’m not sure what healthy is-but I didn’t have it with you
here’s the english version of this poem:
todos nos envidian y me tiran indirectas y insultos
porque una generación nos separa,
porque dicen que no soy suficiente para ti
pero ellos no entienden que has sido el primero
en tratarme como un princesa,
el primero en amarme de verdad
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
the nuns at Holy Spirit would be proud of me
if they saw me with my self imposed celibacy,
with the solitary confinement I’ve placed myself in
They’d mistake my vow of chastity
as me trying to get closer to the holy trinity
when it’s really me being dramatic
about my BPD recovery
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
poesia: Aqui
walking along Kailua Beach-remembering the young and impulsive girl I once was
always jumping without looking, always falling in love without thinking
until one day, it all caught up with me and I was ostracized and had to leave
and 4 years later I’m back to the place that brought me so much trauma and chaos
and while I could dwell on my past wrongs and misdeeds
today I’m choosing to give grace and forgiveness to my younger self
who didn’t know any better, who was still discovering who she was
I’d love to ride a motorcycle for the first time in Oxapampa, Peru. It’s something that used to seem so scary to me but when I saw whole families riding motorcycles in Oxapampa in April on this year, I thought I want to do that. I’m sure I can make this happen on my next trip there.
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
I no longer believe in always and forever
because everyone I’ve loved has always left
Or I’ve stopped loving them
always and forever is a fairytale programmed into me
when I was a young girl
It made me believe in the impossible dreams of true love and soul mates
the only thing love has ever brought me has been anger, sorrow, and self destruction
so my dreams of always and forever have burned to ashes
I bury in my poetry
escribí este poema en 2003.
de nuevo estoy aquí
en el mismo sitio
De los días de mi rebeldía
De los amores sin amor
De las aventuras sin cobardía
De los lazos que nunca existieron
De la soledad que me brindó tristeza
Y el amor
Que fue una mentira
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
With excitement in his eyes, my son used to bring me pictures of made up monsters
Drawn with crayons-
With pride in his stance, he now brings me target sheets showing me how he’s well on his way
to becoming a decent shot with a revolver
When did my child go from crayons to guns?
It seems like I blinked and he went from four to twenty four
He went from being a rambunctious little boy who was hard to keep up with
to a strong and independent man who no longer needs me
And while I’m full of joy about this transformation-
I still miss the carefree days of crayon drawn monsters
here’s the english version of this poem:
Poetry: Strange
me tienes en la esquina de confusión y desilusión como un animal
tratando de entenderte, siempre persiguiendote,
Viviendo de los trozos de atención y afección que me tiras
cuando te da la gana
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
I’ve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
I’ve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know we’re both on borrowed time
and I don’t want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today
here’s the english version of this poem:
Meaning
el propósito de mi vida nunca será un trabajo o una relación
Ni siquiera será en obtener un estatus lleno de lujos y respeto
el propósito de mi vida me vino claridad este otoño
el propósito de mi vida es ser una buena persona y madre
Life on the BPD 