This is my response to prompt #15: the best kind of surprise
Love surprises me with a glance, with a slight touch on my hand
And 99.9 percent of me wants to run
I don’t want to take a chance once again with my sanity
but the romantic in me say “fuck it”
maybe this will finally be a different story
one where my lover doesn’t leave
I wrote this poem in 2006 in college. I’ve always been kind of introspective when it comes to the possibilities of life.
The full moon strikes full of unseen possibilities
Possibilities that dwindle as life goes
Through the process of aging or does it?
Perhaps we are the ones who put limits
To our potential to be anything or do anything
Perhaps it really is true that we are the writers of our own destiny
I wrote this in 2002 fantasizing about the love and life I wanted. Poor 21 year old me, she was so damn naïve.
I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life
wrapped up in your arms
I’m looking forward to newlywed bliss
Having a little one with your gorgeous smile
And in old age, sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch
I’m looking forward to petty arguments, responsibility, and bills
What I’m looking forward to the most is to being your wife
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
you wear many faces, sometimes you have dark hair
sometimes you have blond hair
but you always take me in your arms
and make me feel loved and accepted for who I am
you don’t care that I’m too crazy or too much
It’s a type of excitement, an almost adrenaline rush for you
and if I annoy you-you’ll tell me I’m being ridiculous
but apologize right after I burst into tears
and you’re not afraid of my tears or screams
because you know it comes with the territory
when it comes to loving me
and then I wake up-
in my self imposed solitary confinement
and I wonder if this dream could one day come into existence
like my other dreams
or it it will become another fulfilled fantasy
Because love stories aren’t meant for someone crazy like me
I wrote this poem in 2018 shortly after the death of my maternal grandmother/mamacita. My grandmother lived in a time where her opportunities were very limited by society’s rules about what a woman should be.
The ghost of my grandmother
hangs above me
Her spirit swallows and
Envelops me-
It tells me to live
a life full of passion and love
Without self imposed boundaries
It tells me to stop
being afraid of my promise
and potential
and takes risks and
Go for my dreams
No matter how many
obstacles stand in my way
It tells me that I only
have one life left to live
And I need to start
living it fully instead
of standing on the sidelines
Waiting for something or someone
to rescue me
It tells me
Stop waiting
Now it’s your turn
Life on the BPD 