I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in
Aqui esta la version en Espanol:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/07/te-vi/
everytime I see you
I want to sin with you
you are the forbidden fruit
I want to taste, I want to make love to
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I fantasize about death after my boyfriend’s rejection
I’m so out of touch with reality, a car stops inches away from me
the driver honks at me and cusses me out
I am 15
I want to throw myself of the bridge on the way
to confirm I’m my parent’s worst failure
but a kick inside me saves me
I am 17
I want my baby to stop crying, my head is starting to spin
with psychosis and I hold him a little too tight
until my husband takes him from away me
I am 30
I’m crying while spewing nonsense
while my lover looks at me in horror and disgust
I know it’s over
I am 40
Escribí este poema en febrero del 2022.
Mis compañeros quieren que me trepa en el armazón de barras
Y tengo mucho miedo y me da ansiedad
Les miento y les digo “mi mami no me dio permiso”
Tengo 5 años
Le digo a mi hermana que tengo que estudiar
con mis amigas pero en realidad
voy al cine con unos muchachos
Tengo 15 años
Llego a mi casa embaraza de 7 meses
y mis padres esta desilusionados sin comprender
“el porqué” si soy una niña buena
Tengo 17 años
What were your parents doing at your age?
At 41, my mother worked two jobs, raised 3 kids,
and still kept the spark in her marriage alive
I don’t know how she did it all without ever
breaking apart-
I don’t remember ever seeing her cry
but I do remember her temper, her anger
and being afraid of her sometimes
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
someday everything won’t feel so heavy
someday I won’t swim in anxiety
someday I’ll find self love
Someday I’ll be enough
Someday, someday, someday
Maybe someday is today
today I see the light
today I’m grateful for my life
today I feel like enough
Today I have self love
Maybe just maybe
Today I’m truly happy
I wrote this on Valentine’s Day of 2022.
I fucked many recklessly without a purpose
some part of me was looking for love
it was a temporary cure when I wanted to avoid emptiness
it was a temporary cure for my painful loneliness
so I used the the magic of my body
to feel like somebody, like I was worthy
But one day I got tired of how it wasn’t enough
and found my worth and self love
I mean, sure it was fun but I’m done, done and done
I forgive the person I once was who mistook lust for love
I didn’t know any better and settled for prince charmings
when I really needed a king to match my love energy
A king who accepts all of me and not just her body
A king who wants to evolve and grow with me
Do you need a break? From what?
I need to take a breaking from thinking about you
you’ve been on my mind lately and it’s annoying
and it feels so damn foolish
but what can I do when my heart won’t understand logic
I hope this is just a phase
I’m enjoying our newfound friendship
anything more would ruin it
Here is the English version of the poem that inspired this one:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/21/poetry-thanks-to-you/
el hielo de tu despedida me destruyo
eras otra leccion que aprendi, otro hombre que me quemo
Y después de 4 años quieres pedir disculpas
disminuyendo todo lo que pasó
como si fuera un accidente menor
como si no me arruinaste la vida
como si no me trataste como basura
Querido, es demasiado tarde para tus remordimientos
dile a tu conciencia que se calle
solita, me encargue del desmadre que dejaste
Y nosotros hemos sobrevivido sin it
Entonces, vete, vete, vete
Nunca más regreses aquí
Here is the English Version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/01/11/hey-%f0%9f%91%8b-married-man/
Mi corazón se rehúsa a dejarte
no importa que duro lo intento
no importa con quien estoy para escapar
los pensamientos de ti
es inmoral que te ame
pero mi corazón es demasiado salvaje
para escuchar logica y razon
te quiere a ti y solo a ti
How does death change your perspective?
word press prompt of the day
lately I feel like I’m on borrowed time-
lately I feel like I’m not doing enough
and lately this fucks me up
so I over work, over exercise,
and over post
to make myself worthy of my existence
I want to make sure I’m leaving
some kind of imprint, some kind of legacy
behind that I’m remembered by
but it’s really me trying to please
the inner critic in me
who comes out when I’m most vulnerable
in my grief
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m constantly shunned from men who profess their love
when I show up feral and without a filter
They’ll call me their princess until I show them my wild
They always love me beautiful and submissive
and they leave when I get assertive and subversive
They feel deceived when they fall for a polite princess
And somehow end up with an amazon Queen
Maybe it’s the Incan in me who can’t reign it in
They say, “you’re too much, you’re too crazy”
Is there a man out there who can handle my duality?
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I’m 18 and walking across the football stadium to receive my diploma
the one I almost didn’t get, my parents and I breathe a sigh of relief
I’m 24 and I hold my baby boy in my arms, it’s love at first sight
he’s the best birthday present and I’m humbled
I’m 28 and I’m graduating from college,it’s been a an arduous journey to get here
but I make it and my dad cries and tells me how proud he is of me
I’m 30 and holding my third baby boy, he’s my rainbow after the worst storm
everyone in my family holds him and there is an overflow of love
I’m 36 and my oldest son is walking across the gymnasion to receive his diploma
I cry with elation and pride, my heart is filled with pride and joy for him
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I forgive myself at 15 for crying over an idiot
who was never worth my time and energy
but he did spark my poetic voice
I forgive myself at 20 for writing more than 50 poems
about a 6 week relationship in 2001
but it did make for some hilarious blog content in 2021
I forgive myself at 25 for not fighting harder for my dreams
and for swallowing my anger and angst for the comfort of others
but that year I became a playwright
I forgive myself at 30 for drowning the writer in me
as I lost myself in my roles as wife and mother
but that year I launched my blog
I forgive myself at 35 for swallowing a bottle of xanax
because I felt like a failure as wife, mother, and worker
but the dark poetry from that time is some of my best
I forgive myself at 40 for wanting to die for two weeks in July
after being discarded by the “supposed” love of my life
but that summer I found the confidence to call myself a writer
I wrote this in January of 2022.
one day the karens will rise up and protest on the streets
with their short blond hair auspiciously blowing in the wind
and their know it all smirks, armed with latest iphones
in their gucci bags with signs that say, live, laugh and love
or I want to speak to the manager
they’ll stomp in their $100 uggs with a purpose
to be seen and heard
with a purpose to complain about everything
wrong in their world
with a purpose to take their name back
one will get on the megaphone and talk about the oppression
they face because of their name or the pale color of their skin
or their higher social status
and people-well they’ll laugh at them,
they’ll love the absurdity of their message
and live for this-the least empowering moment in history
Life on the BPD 