poetry: glass of champagne

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

a toast to this woman

a glass of champagne in my hand as I raise a toast
who I used to be
a woman mentally ill and needy
a woman who gave men easy access to her hips
a woman who thought intimacy could only be created
and felt in between her sheets
we say goodbye to the his woman lovingly
as we usher a new era of me
a woman who knows her worth
and wonโ€™t settle of anything less
than she deserves

Poetry: Border

me in the summer of 2019 when I wrote this poem

There is a border around you

Cemented with callousness

Every now and then 

I see glimpses of good-

Within you

But only on the nights

When you are drunk and lonely

Only the nights

When you want my skin 

To cover yours

You give me orgasms 

And sweet compliments

And fill me up with lies-

And the day after

Your border is closed

Its impenetrable

So hard to break through

So hard to keep loving you

So I give up

Every time I TRY

To chisel a little at it 

My heart hurts

and breaks a  little more

So I”ll stop trying to break through

No matter how happy you make me

For a few hours

Youโ€™re not worth

Days, weeks, and months 

Of misery 

poesรญa: maldita

escribi este poema en mayo del 2024.

siempre Diosa, siempre maldita

soy la poeta maldita del siglo 21
atormentada, depresiva, dramatica,
salvaje, sin vergรผenza, obsesionada
con la muerte
y las poetas malditas de siglos
antepasados
soy la peor pesadilla de esta sociedad
machista
me vestirรฉ con un aire rosado y dulce
pero de mi boca saldrรก una energรญa
feminista y salvaje
y me valdrรก madre incomodar a la gente
y no me importara del “que dirรกnโ€
y por eso me consideran
una arma maldita y peligrosa
en la sociedad

Poetry: Once Again

Again and again and again

-I let you back in 

You take me in passionately

    and intensely

And without thinking

Iโ€™m back in your arms

  And for the briefest of moments

I believe you love me 

 Loneliness makes one blind

To the sad reality 

You just like the convenience of my hips

Lust makes one blind 

To the hard truth

You just like to use 

The warmth of my body

To covers yours 

At your leisure 

poetry: rebranding

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

soft girl energy

I look forward to the day when Iโ€™m no longer known as the writer with BPD
when I no longer make my mental illness a part of my brand
when Iโ€™m no longer dependent on my ex husband
and antipsychotics to survive
when I finally start to resemble something like a normal person
and not the vehement emotional mess I usually am

poetry: four letter word

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

imagine fumbling all of this

you could have been my forever muse, my forever thot
But like the others before you
you donโ€™t know what to do with a woman like me
maybe my ingenuity is to blame for this
wanting to live in a delusional daydream of love
instead of grounding myself in reality
and radically accepting love is just a four letter word
in my vocabulary that wrecks and ruins my sanity

poetry: buspar

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

image of me when I tried to quit Buspar

I wanted to kill my sex drive so I stopped taking buspar
and while my sex drive has finally waned
the side effects are slowly killing me
between the mental fog, the constant headaches,
the nausea followed by the loss of appetite
thereโ€™s a reason they tell you to wean slowly
from psychiatric drugs, to do it under the care
of a medical provider
stopping cold turkey lends to a spiral of madness
and a physical ailment I never intended

poetry: motherhood

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

me with my youngest son

there are days I donโ€™t feel strong enough to be their mom
maybe itโ€™s insecurity that weighs heavily on me
after every fight, after every conflict
it was easier when they were small
and I was their favorite person
the one they ran to the moment I opened the door
nowadays I work much and they have their own interests
to have much to do with me
nowadays they bring up grievances of everything
Iโ€™ve done and am doing wrong
is this karma for being a bad daughter to my mom
is this karma for being selfish and self absorbed
for a few years of their lives
Who knows-
maybe itโ€™s not about being strong, being right,
or being respected
maybe itโ€™s about them knowing they are loved

poetry: for once

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

this poem is about me and only me

for once I want to be missed, for once I want to be remembered
for once I want to feel valuable and worth effort
but itโ€™s a fantasy I need to let go of
itโ€™s a dream that will never come true
itโ€™s time to grow up and plant my feet firmly on the ground
acknowledge my worth and hold onto my pride and dignity
and stop chasing delusions and daydreams
aside for all of the inspiration
itโ€™s never gotten me anywhere

poetry: three years ago

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

thinking about the chaotic move of May of 2021

three years ago, I was dealing with the most chaotic move of my life
never thought my new home would see the death of me
the princess who moved in
and the resurrection of the queen I was about to become

poetry: a snap 3 years later

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

remembering how I posted this snap so the muse of this poem would see it-lol

saw you and knew right away there wouldnโ€™t be a second date
thought I made that apparent enough at the end
but 3 years later you send me a snap to ask me
if Iโ€™m still interested
Sorry
but the woman you met is no longer who I used to be
maybe you had a chance with her
but the new me-sheโ€™s careful who she gives access to
the new me has cut off any strings left
from the old life the old me use to live

poetry: every time

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

once upon a time, I was obsessed with a fuck boi

everytime you disappear, I lose an ounce
of the fondness and affection I hold for you
this last time,I didnโ€™t even notice
I thought, good for him
he found someone else to stroke his ego
and validate him
but here you are again
everything I once felt for you
has dried out
and I have nothing left to say
as you try to nonchalantly come back into my life
Iโ€™m filled with indifference this time
holding onto my new sense of empowerment
careful to not again fall under your spell
once again

Poetry: Intoxicated

I am intoxicated 

  by his desire for me

He seems to accept who I am–

  Wrinkles and craziness and all

  and he doesnโ€™t try to change me

He makes me feel valued 

  and appreciated and 

  that I matter in his life

Being with him fills me 

 with happiness, peace 

 and a joy Iโ€™ve never known

and for the first time

my heart isnโ€™t filled 

With anxiousness 

of whether Iโ€™m good enough.