I wrote this poem in March of 2022.
Toilet paper, hand sanitizer,
Masks, COVID tests
the judgy quarantined
Karens and Brads
or
the overwhelmed essential
workers
Solitary confinement
or
Endless work hours
Creative new hobbies
or
No time to think or sleep
Neverending restlessness
or
Neverending adrenaline rushes
Mental breakdowns for all
This was the Zeitgeist
of COVID times
I wrote this poem in February of 2022.
I wish for sleep to take me away to a dreamless land
but I’ll take unpleasant dreams about ghosts from my past
just so my body can get a full night’s rest
But sleep evades me,it runs away from me
like a lover who lures me with a taste of love
only to abandon me on a whim
and I try and try and try to shut down my mind
but tonight an emotional triggers hit me and trauma visits me
My body and mind remembers the adrenaline rush
of emotional and physical wounds and it scares sleep off
I wonder what to do next and get angry at my traitorous body
but I remember-trauma is complex and while most of it has been processed
There are still remnants that come out to be seen, to be addressed
And I end up here with the nightmare of insomnia that won’t let me rest
And while it’s scary I remember it’s also temporary
eventually my body has to give in and I’ll fall asleep
Quiero borrar tu cara
de mi mente
y
Fregar tus besos
de mis labios
Quiero olvidarme de ti
Day 24 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt is “Guarding Your Lies”.
Day 19 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt is “Legends to Myths”
For the English version of this poem, click on this link: https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/02/poetry-lost-concentration/
Escribí este poema en 1998 cuando me di cuenta que estaba embarazada con mi primer hijo.
No me puedo concentrarme
pensando en mi desgracia
La muerte sería mejor
que seguir mintiendo
Me estoy subiendo de peso
Y la regla no me baja
No puede seguir aguantando
esta pesadilla que es mi vida
estoy perdiendo esperanza
¿Quién me puede ayudar?
Todo esto
por unos minutos
de placer
Here is the link to the English Version of this poem:
Poetry: The Liar
Escribí este poema en 1997 cuando me enojo con el padre biológico de mi hijo mayor. Me desilusione cuando el paro de llamarme.
Creí cuando me dijiste
que me amabas
Fui una tonta en confiar en it
Creyéndome tus promesas falsas
Fuiste cruel al usarme para apagar
tu sed primal
Me dejaste como otra víctima
de tu juego desalmado de amor
Tu corazón debe ser hecho de hielo
para mentir por tu antojo sexual
I wrote this in 2006 thinking back on my time with Lucas.
A shadow of our friendship
is all there is left
After life gets in the way
of wanting something more
And when I see you around
A wave, a nod
An acknowledgement we once knew
Each other
Our conversations are now long gone
But we’re forever etched in each
other’s minds and dreams
From the ages of 18 to 23, I worked for a government agency as an interpreter. I was well-liked by many of my coworkers and my first supervisor was appreciative of me. I was very good at my job and even cross-trained in many other areas that didn’t “pertain to my job”. However, at that job, I was also bullied and discriminated against for being Latina. I was also slut-shamed by my second supervisor and coworkers the latter 2 years I was there. I don’t want to say I deserved being slut-shamed but I’ll just say that I trusted the wrong coworkers with my private life and they went on to gossip about me to everyone. It was also a very stressful environment because of the work I did and clients I had to interact with. My depression and anxiety went haywire. In 2003, I decided to enroll in my local community college and major in English. In 2004, I was trying to go to school full time, work full time, and deal with my child’s new autism diagnosis. I was breaking down mentally and something had to give so I quit this job. I was fucking done. And this poem was inspired by that moment. I thought I had processed this trauma until it came back up in therapy in the summer of 2021. I didn’t realize it at the time but I had suffered a deep racial trauma that impacted me and still triggered reactions in me. I was angry. There is actually way more to this story and one day I’ll share it when I’m ready.
This was the hardest thing I did
but it had to be done
I couldn’t stand the gossip
or the two faces of everyone
the way they pretended to be my friend
but the minute I turned my back to them
they talked like I was the biggest wench
so much envy and hate
I HAVE TO ESCAPE
FROM THIS MISERABLE FATE!
so today I resigned
I didn’t tell them why
all I know is that for the first time
in a really long time
I feel something like happy
so long to the only place I have known
for an almost five year term
for once I breathe a sigh of relief
I finally had the courage to leave
so long to the hypocrisy of this place
to let myself stay here for another day
would only be a fucking waste
I wrote this in February of 2004 when I was feeling nostalgic about Lucas.
I sit here at what once was our “spot”
and contemplate our last conversation
And I think over and over again how that last phrase got to
“Me and my wife had a long talk-and we decided to work things out”
I know I should have been happy but I was sad
I know I should’ve smiled but instead I cried
Of course I hid this very well from you
And the few words I could muster up was
“Well that’s good, I’m happy for you”
And I wonder why when I should’ve been happy for you, my friend
But I was sad for me
I sit down and wonder why
I always end up with the same lost guy
Who doesn’t know what he wants and hurts me tons
Who uses me just as an escape
to get away from his mate
Who never wants to tell me I love you
and thinks of me as anything but the one
who never cares after our tragic love affair fails
I wrote this in February of 2004 after my car accident after I was feeling lost and deep sense of despair and worthlessness. It was a trauma that would affect me for many years to come. I’ll tell the story of the accident one day when I’m ready to.
Last week I was where I needed to be
Today I am lost again with no sense of who I am
Or where I want to go
They tell me I’m a mother, daughter, coworker,
Student, sister, and girlfriend
But I don’t seem be right fit into any of those roles
So can somebody instruct me
on how to get to where I once was
Or more importantly on how to be happy just to be me
I wrote this shortly in February of 2004 shortly after my car accident. I was feeling so much depression and anxiety because of it.
I feel so lost
without sense of direction
So many feelings of frustration
over my life’s woes
Feelings of rejection
by the ones who once loved me
Feelings of anger
for never doing anything right
Where can I find the shining light
that I desperately seek?
I wrote this poem in January of 2004 when I was frustrated with Matt and blamed him for my life going awry. Looking back, it was misplaced blame on a situation that only I had control over. At the time, it was much easier to blame Matt rather than take a look at myself and how I was responsible for the mess I made of my life.
Dear son
How do I stop
from feeling all of this resentment and anger
at the deadbeat who calls himself your dad?
Dear son
Will I ever feel better
about our almost dead-end situation
your dad has put us in?
Dear son
Will you ever forgive me
for not having everything
someone as wonderful as you should have?
Dear son
Can you show me where to
find a glimmer of hope
and that without him
both of us will be alright?
I wrote this in May of 2003 when one of my close friends had a miscarriage.
It’s so funny and ironic
When something bad happens
most people says things
Like “it’s God’s way”
or the famous
“Whatever doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger”
It makes you wonder if there
are actual people out there
who would say,
“It’s okay to be mad at God’s way”
or
“It’s alright to be weak instead of strong”
or that it’s perfectly fine to scream out loud
“FUCK THE WORLD”
If there is a least one person like this,
I want them to become my new “best friend”
I wrote this in January of 2003 about John. Maybe he tried to come back to be an FWB and I got mad and that’s what inspired this poem.
Why do you continue to be
such an asshole to me?
With your pathetic games
you make yourself look lame
You expect me to sit around and wait for you
whenever it’s fucking convenient for you
but I guess this is my fault
for letting us almost fuck
So now I have to tell you something
I will no longer be your fucking fling
So start to forget
that we ever met
Go on your merry away
and stay away
for i am lot more
than an on call whore
Life on the BPD 