I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
Praying for peace
At times, when calm evades
Trying to always be better
Regardless of what others think
In the best shape of her life
Cause of her routined exercise
In the best moment of her life
And no one can stop her
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
Anger trickles in throughout my body
I didn’t get enough sleep
and the monster of PMDD is creeping in
I scream at the universe
for playing a certain song on the radio
And I get annoyed by everything
I hate being so sensitive and triggered
by the stupidest shit
I hate being mentally ill
I hate how the smallest change in my routine
causes me to spiral into nonsensical circle of fury
I wrote this poem in April of 2023.
new leaves spring up in April and I have hope once again
that everything will be okay
as God shows me his love through the beauty
of the changing of the seasons
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
hope appears in the leaves dancing on an almost spring day
and I sit in stillness and silence wondering what it means
Admiring the splendor of nature before me
understanding how beauty is found in the ordinary
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
Finally comfortable in my skin
I’m no longer afraid to show off my majestic beauty
my curves comes one of the seven wonders of the world
and my face is a mosaic of my colonizer and indigenous ancestry
and now I grace the world with my beauty
posting endless selfies in various poses
some people may find it narcissistic
but if you possessed my goddess beauty
would you try to hide it?
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
Cover me up in rope and tie me up every which way you want
It’s fine, it’s okay honey, I’m used to it by now
Men and society have been tying me up since I could breathe
So a real rope won’t bring me much harm
take control of me like you own me, tonight I don’t want to think
It’s not much different from the way every man in my life has treated me
so do whatever you want with me and make me your ultimate rope bunny
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
I used to want a lover who looked at me like I was magic
now I want a lover who sees the real me and doesn’t leave
someone who doesn’t scare easily when I cry in front of them
and instead holds me and offers me kind words of solace
someone who accepts that I’m both angel and devil
and doesn’t hold it against me
Someone who’s persistent enough to get through my emotional walls
even when I’m closed off because of trauma
this kind of lover won’t be ideal and will have his own set of issues
but it’s the only kind I’ll accept from now
Because lovers who have looked at me like I was magic
quickly disappear when a strong wind of my insanity ruins me
me for them and they say, “fuck me, I didn’t sign up for this”
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
My story is important to share, it’s important to write down
but I don’t want to do it from a place of anger, revenge, or ego
It’s strange to say this because for the past 5 years
Anger has been my major inspiration and motivation
to feed the narrative of how everyone has been a villain
and I’ve been a victim
It gave me a sense of martyrdom that allowed me
to find peace for a while
acting like everyone is a problem
While I just flounder around being wronged
And while I have so much compassion and love for this version of me
It’s not who I want to continue to be
It’s not how I want to be perceived
because I’m more than being angry and vindictive
I’m also kindness, goodness, empathy, and love
And when I share my story-I need to remember these things
I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
Is this our new beginning?
our own personal spring
when we delve into lust
and almost mistake it for love
Where we’re almost lovers
Or is this another false dream
And you turn once again into
my unreliable love king?
I wrote this poem in March of 2021
I was your short term adventure of lust
you tried to disguise as love
It was fun for a while
while we were both in denial
until you got tired of me and left
My broken heart, I had to atone
I don’t know how to go on
everything feels so wrong
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
When I tell you I’m a poet-
please take me seriously
don’t think I’m some cute girl
who writes a few verses in her room
about how your kiss is a new kind of heaven
Poetry for me has a much deeper meaning,
poetry is how I bleed out all of my emotions
I hold within
When I tell you I’m a poet-
please don’t laugh at me or mock me
don’t berate the simplicity of my words
I weave into verse
It’s how I make sense of my explosion of thoughts
It’s how I express what I can’t say out loud
When I tell you I’m a poet-
don’t try to cure me of my poetic nature
and prey on my insecurities and try to kill
my dreams of making my art seen
I know how the odds are stacked against
someone like me
I don’t do it to make it to the mainstream-
I do it so other women like me
can be seen, can be inspired to dream
And finally when I tell you I’m a poet-
Appreciate the artist in me,
make yourself a sanctuary to put my poetry in-
I’m not asking for endless compliments or an ego boost
I’m asking for a safe space in you to love
the poet I hold within
I wrote this poem in March of 2020.
His love is fire
And I keep getting burned by it
and even though his love burns me profoundly
Every time I get too close
I heal and vow to never see him again
But once again, his fire enchants me,
puts a spell on me
And I return to his burning love
Even when I know it means
I’ll get burned once again
Will my addiction to his burning love ever stop?
I wrote this poem in March of 2020.
I don’t want him to be a part of me-
And yet he appears
in my mind, my dreams, my poetry
He doesn’t deserve any amount of space
he comes to occupy in my life
And within me
-and yet he comes and stays
I tell him to go away
Stay away, and forget about me-
But it never happens that way
He consumes every bit of me
and it’s a lost cause to get him out out of me
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
life is full of making mistakes and then regretting them
It can’t happen any other way
because to be human is to make mistakes
to be human is a series of misadventures
where sometimes we lose our way
I wrote this poem in March of 2023.
How many times have I lied to myself
when I was young in believing some man’s love
would save me, would complete me
when all it ever did was decimate me
over and over again
but I refused to believe love could be anything
but beautiful
Until one day I learned to be honest with myself
and it was a lesson in dialectics
of how love can be both an ugly and beautiful thing
Life on the BPD 