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Poesia: Error

Escribí este poema en el 2002 acerca de Matt, el padre de mi hijo mayor. Estaba bien amarga y desilusionada con el de nuevo después de que el nos rechazo otra vez mas.

verdad

Un día veras
Que no podrás mas
Y te arrepentirás
De día que decidiste olvidarte
De ese niño y esa mujer
Quien te pedía que te acuerdes
Que duro sera
Tendría que explicarle a él
Que tu su padre nunca quisiste ser
Y
Un día pensaras
Que error fue dejarlos atrás
Y tus lágrimas saldrán
Por no poder parar
El odio y rencor que él sentirá
Y
Un día sera muy tarde
Para querer ser su papa

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Poetry: Dead to ME

I wrote this about Matt in 2002. He stopped contacting me after his visit in November and I was beyond pissed. So I did what I normally did after feeling rejected and abandoned, I devalued him to the point that he became dead to me.

it does

You’ve become dead to me
That day, you decided to leave
And again decided to forget
Everything you had said
That you’d try your hardest
To give us your best
That you’d love to
Be there for us on cue
That we really are special
And pain on us wouldn’t befall
But once again, I was wrong
You sing the same deadbeat song
But thankfully, this time, I was prepared
For you to once again fail
So don’t ever come back
And pretend to be sad
Because you’ve become nothing to us
When once again, you left us in the dust

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Poesia: Demaciado Sencilla

Escribí este poema en Diciembre del 2002 acerca de John cuando el me rechazo. Estaba bien enfadada.

Óyeme cuando te digo
Que ya no te amo
Me hiciste mucho daño
Por eso se acabo
Este doloroso cuento de amor
En que no supiste
Apreciar todo lo bueno que te quise ofrecer
Quizás tu pensarías
Que yo era demasiado sencilla

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Poetry: Your Little Game

I wrote this in October of 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. I had a lot of residual resentment for my son’s bio dad. Therapy would have helped with processing processing the trauma but at least I had poetry.

my truth, my trauma

The thought of you never escapes my mind
not even for just one night
Your little game has caused me a lifetime of hurt,
resentment, and pain
Now I’ll never be the same
And I will forever ask myself
Why is it me and our innocent child
the ones to suffer for your thoughtless actions?
Him, without someone to call dad
and me,taken away from my youth
Forced to grow up too fast

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Poetry: Finally

I wrote this in April 2002 after sleeping with Lucas for the first time. This situation was fucked up and crazy for many reasons but that’s another story time blog post. Let’s just say that I’m not great at making the best life choices at times.

Anais is not wrong

I finally fucked
the forbidden married man
It was good, it was great
it was wonderful
It was a heaven full of ecstasy
It was dirty, it was shameful
it was ugly
It was a hell full of guilt

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Poetry: Father Son Mile

I wrote this in 2002 about my oldest son’s father. I really wanted him to step up to be a dad to our son despite our turbulent past.

truth

You make me think
to look past that fateful night of fucking
So I forced that memory to fade fast
Even when a baby was made
Cause you chose her over me
I had to assume it was fate
That there could neve be a “we”
Just forget about that night
And clean our slate white
And walk with him the father-son mile

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Poetry: Wrong

I wrote this in November of 2002. November was such a chaotic month that year that I don’t remember who wrote this about. I think it was probably a one night stand that I had a connection with. It’s obvious that I read way too much into the situation than I should have.

Oh it does

My mind tries to forget
Everything that happened last night
But my heart puts up a fight
My mind tells me it’s wrong and a mistake
But my heart yells that it wasn’t just sex
But it was also fate
My mind considers it a lost cause
but my heart finds a love feeling once lost

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Poetry: Reclaiming Myself

I wrote this in November of 2002 about my son’s oldest dad. I don’t know; maybe I read too much into it when he told me he had feelings for me. I guess that maybe I thought he would choose me. Idk. I guess I was delusional or something.

truth

Once upon a time
I wanted to kill myself
I almost felt myself cross that line
Felt like I had no inner wealth
But seeing you again
Inspired me to pull myself together
And this time I knew how to weather
When once again you’d decide we couldn’t be together
And I’d had to once again face your “accidental” departure

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Poetry: A World Full of Regrets

I wrote this in November of 2002 about my oldest son’s dad. I guess I was trying to view things from his perspective. Seeing him again felt surreal and almost like a dream.

for real

His memory draws blank
Trying to think of that naïve girl
And how they made that baby
He would later on deny
And five years later
After meeting again
That once precocious girl
Turned into a woman
He remembers her tender beauty
And the sexual tension
That drove them crazy
to that baby making night
And meeting his son for the first time
He encounters a world full of regrets

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Poetry: Remorseful Sentiments

I wrote this in 2002 and it wasn’t actually inspired by any past relationships/ breakups. I don’t know, maybe I understood deep down that I had a tendency to self sabotage relationships.

the post trauma is the worst

Remorseful sentiments of you still come to mind
And I ask myself
“How could I have been so blind,
to screw up everything
that meant everything to me?
With my selfishness and lies,
I destroyed our paradise
And I still remember the look upon face
As you drove away full of disgust and hate?

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Poetry: Pretending

I wrote this in 2002 about Matt. I think that the experience with him really put any residual abandonment issues from my childhood to the forefront. Interactions with him throughout my son’s childhood were hard emotionally for me for this reason.

exactly

We meet once again
And you pretend to be my friend
Like nothing ever happened
Like I forgot you never took a stand?
To be a father to our son
How can you be so damn dumb?
How could it have taken you so long?
To finally admit you were wrong
But I’ll forgive you
But I won’t ever forget the hell
you put us through
Just remember
It can never go back
To the way we once were

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Poetry: Thoughts

I wrote this in November of 2002 about Matt when he contacted me again and said he was coming to see our son for the first time. It was a really confusing and chaotic time for me. Even after everything that had happened and I had been through I was still romanticizing him. Ugh. Gotta love that BPD.

ain’t that the truth

I thought my feelings for you
had come to an end
When you thought it was best
For us to go our separate ways
And all of a sudden
Once again you appear
Explaining you felt a strong need
To be near me
That in your time away
You realized you made
The biggest mistake
By breaking us apart
You broke your own heart
A part of me is sad
A part of me is happy
I want to save my dignity
What am I to do?
I want to be with you
But don’t want to end up a fool

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Poesia: Tardes Remordimientos

Escribí este poema en el 2002 acerca del padre de mi primer hijo. Sentía sentimientos encontrados después de no verlo en muchos tiempo.

Asi es a veces

El no se acuerda de esa niña adolescente
Y como llegaron ha hacer
Aquel bebe que el nego
Y ahora cinco años después
Al conocer de nuevo esa niña consentida
Convertida en toda una mujer
Se acuerda de su belleza
Y esa fricción sexual de como locos
Los llevó a la cama
Y al ver a ese bebe convertido
Le vienen los tardes remordimientos

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Flash Fiction: Passage of Regret

She came in before him into the same house she was at a year ago. She wonders to herself why she‘s there at all. She knows the minute she steps into the room; it will be like welcoming back a ghost into her life. She feels like she has no choice. He offers her a drink, and she gladly takes many, hoping that this will numb the outcome her mindless and impulsive actions have taken her to. She wants to say “no” and that she has a boyfriend she wants to be faithful to but knows that now it’s too late. She stops him for a minute after he takes off her shirt and unhooks her bra. She tells him she needs to use the bathroom, and in the bathroom, she writes this. A night she would like to forget.

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Poetry: Newfound Emptiness

I wrote this in November 2002 after a seeing my one of my exes. Chronic feelings of emptiness are one of the symptoms of BPD and in the past I’ve tried to escape it with alcohol or sex. I tried sex this time and it didn’t work.

You DO!

She wants to enjoy herself
as his once familiar hands and lips
explore her body
But she can’t

He kisses her breasts
and she feels nothing

His hands touch those special
turn -on places in her body
And her body remains cold and numb

Then she realizes this meaningless act
of intimacy she uses to satisfy
her body’s urges
is no longer enough

She now needs something more,
she is frightened but the newfound emptiness
Of it all
She realizes she need love