Escribà este poema en 2006 acerca de alguien que me gustaba. Cuando me gusta alguien, me obsesiono con esa persona.
¿No se que es de ti?
Pero tu me robas la razón
¿No se que haces ?
Pero tu me devuelves
La inquietud
¿No se porque?
Pero tu me vuelves
En una adolescente
Y
Me dejas
Sin claridad.
Me describes como algo fresco
porque no soy como las demás
esperate un par de meses
cuando te canses de mi
I wrote this poem in 2004 about my oldest son. Even though, I was 17 when I had him, I always tried to be the best mother for him. I worked to support him since I was 18, he was one of my biggest motivations for going to college, and even though I was extremely insecure as a young mom, I learned to advocate and fight for him to get the services and therapies he needed when he was diagnosed with autism.
You’re a wonderful mistake
I never want to unmake
I was young and stupid
a kid having another kid
but with you I finally grew up
and learned the meaning of love
You are everything a mother could want
Such an admirable and fine son
you are my pride and joy
you will always be my little boy
And I will dread the day
When you have to go away
But I take relief in knowing
You’ll know how to spread your wings
And you will always remember
who you once were
A wonderful mistake
Your mom never wanted to unmake
Perhaps a creation of lust
but one who never lacked love
I wrote this in 2006 for my creative writing class.
The horsefly stands on her shrug
Doesn’t notice, doesn’t care
Blankness spilled across her pleasant face
The horsefly stands on her shrug
Not even a crumble of emotion
In her still hands and feet
The horsefly stands on her shrug
No longer is there a distinction
Between her and the marble
The horsefly stands on her shrug
The sun slowly starts to simmer her
As her wires start to show
There is something about you
that I’m attracted to
maybe it’s your laugh
or the way you talk
or maybe how you drive me crazy
when you touch me
I know what it is
You make me feel
EVERYTHING!
Escribà este poema en el 2006 cuando me obsesione con unos de mis compañeros de la universidad.
El hombre con esos intensos ojos negros me tiene embrujada.
Me siento viva cuando me mira, me siento sensual cuando me habla.
Cuántas veces he tratado de no gritar todo lo que me hace sentir.
Algo pasó hoy
Una atracción que siento por él que no se pudo callar.
Me encanta su voz, su piel, y su manera de hablar sin cuidado.
Pero esto es otra de mis ilusiones románticas sin realidad.
I wrote this in 2006 when I was frustrated and fantasized about leaving my husband.
What if I don’t think?
About our precious link
And decide to go
Without letting you know
And let you wake up
Free of our never ending rut
What if I don’t feel your love
And am no longer good enough
And continue to fight for us
And leaving you becomes a must
What if I choose to be free
and leave you abruptly
and live my life without you
because I finally learned my value
I love you
but I hate you
I miss you
but you’re a jerk
I desire you
but your love is awful
I want you here with me
but you make me suffer
I want to kiss you
but you steal my calm
I keep you in my heart
but with you I lose my mind
This is another poem about the bio dad of my oldest son. Obviously I had a lot of anger directed at him that I should have gone to therapy for but instead I just wrote a lot of angry poetry. Ha.
You don’t know him and chances are
You never will
You could’ve been somebody real in his life
But you BLEW IT!
So now is the time to say
Goodbye forever.
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/08/30/poetry-another-pathetic-guy/
escribo otro poema patético
acerca de otra idiota mas
no estaba impresionada
desde la primera conversación
con lo pretencioso que eras
pero todavÃa decidà en darte
una oportunidad
nunca pensé que me harÃas
sentir como una ignorante
Nunca sentà tanta repulsión
contra un hombre
Nunca habrá un futuro
entre los dos
I wrote this 2001 when I took a break from writing angry breakup poetry-lol. As an immigrant that grew up here, I’ve struggled with my identity for most of my life. Issues with identity are also another trait of BPD. I think this was a time in my life when I was especially reflecting on this part of my identity because I was become aware that men were fetishizing me.
Caught between two worlds
what am I made up of more
hopefully I won’t ever have to choose
sometimes I wish to just cut loose
Too Latina for the American side
Too Americanizada for the Latino side
So what is the politically correct term for someone like me?
Not American, not born here
Not fully Latina either
for I lack that latin allure
So I’ll call myself one of a kind
a girl with much Latin beauty and an American mind
like a delicious half and half cream
whose taste is an amazing mixed dream
I wrote this poem in 2006 about my tumultuous relationship with writing. I love to write and it’s saved me more times than I can count. However, I tend to beat myself up if I’m not writing enough.
Instead of tears from eyes that long to spill,
I will spill words onto these pages.
Words that make sense,
Words that don’t make sense,
Many are in fact nonsense
I will let my emotions, the wind
And my surroundings guide me until
I fill up these pages
Full of nonsense, prose,
Poetry, ideas, and everything I can think of
This will be a new phase
this new phase will be full
of promise and potential
And it will also be full
of what I hope is the inspiration
that leads me to share my relationship
to the world.
this will be my fourth baby
Another one I will nurse and raise until it is
As beautiful and complete as my
real life ones.
This is the promise I make to
my pathetic little beast.
Here is the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/12/15/poetry-scared/
Tengo miedo
que de nuevo se rompa
mi corazón
Estoy preocupado que algún dÃa
me pares de amar
Estoy cansada después
de tantos mentirosos
tengo cuidado que de no
convertirme en una idiota
otra vez
I wrote this in 2006 after I was reflecting my first years of being a mother to my eldest child who I had at 17. Becoming a mother at such a young age didn’t make me the best parent and at times I still tried to act my age and party a lot even though I was a parent. It used to eat me up inside but I’ve come to terms that I did the best I could under the circumstances.
Late nights at the club
Drunk and dancing-you
Singing lullabies
Until he fell asleep-I
Getting ass from
an unknown stranger-you
Looking for monsters under the bed
and wishing them away-I
Waking up in an unknown place
With a helluva hangover-you
Waking up from little hands
Shaking my shoulders-I
You and I=me
Me =two different truths
About the way your childhood
Was seen
Day 16 of this doing this 31-day prompt poetry challenge. The prompt of today is “Never Again”.
