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 todavía decidí en darte
una oportunidad
nunca pensé que me harías
sentir como una ignorante
Nunca sentí 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 día
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
Here is the English version of this poem :
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/16/poetry-youre-fired-trigger-warning/
Corazon, amorcito
Te tengo que decir
ya no te amo
la mariposas que sentía
Se han ido a la tierra del olvido
no hay otra persona
es que nuestra conexión especial
se ha roto
cuando me besas, siento nada
Disculpame, pero esta despedido
I wrote this is 2006 for my creative writing class.
Dressed up in lace
She gets into his car
He drives away in haste.
She’ll never go far
On this path to nowhere
Her life becomes tar.
Doesn’t seem to care
That she is treated so rough
With a life so unfair
Is she a black dove?
Or just a drug addict?
Did she ever know love?
What made her so damn sick?
Why don’t I understand?
What made her so chaotic
Man after man
All for another fix
From the candy man.
For the English version of this poem, click on the link below:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/20/poem-racist-jerk/
Querido, lo que dijiste
me partió el alma
nunca pensé que eras un racista
no se si te pueda perdonar
quedarme contigo mataría mi alma
Lamento haberte conocido
Y me duele decirte
Tenemos que terminar
Nuestro cuento de amor
Te deseo lo mejor
Ojalá que algún día
Dejas tus prejuicios atrás
Day 13 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt was, “On a Moonlit Stage”.
I wrote this in 2006 about my husband, then boyfriend. I tend to put a lot of my worth in the person I’m romantically involved with. This is another BPD trait.
Rising from darkness I struggle to find
the light in the oblivion
that has become my life.
The light is bright with love without conditions .
The light tells me I’m good enough.
The light is you.
For the English version of this poem, click on the link below.
https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/20/betrayed/
Convertiste el amor bonito que teníamos
en una pesadilla de traiciones y mentiras
Estabas enamorado de ella
todo el tiempo que estuvimos juntos
y ahora me voy para siempre
porque merezco mejor
que gastar mi energía en un traidor
I wrote this is 2006 in for my creative writing class. I wrote thinking about my sexuality when I was a teenager. I was hypersexual from a young age.
She was an adult like sixteen years old
Hormones racing like the speed of light
These were bitter enemies of the cold
Powerful sensations she had to fight
Had the body of a mature woman
But the maturity of one she lacked
But still she chose a stranger man
He told her quickly “Lie on your back.”
She was swiftly incapacitated
Gone forever, her norms and behavior
As her callow body palpitated
With her lengthy new found pleasure
And this was the unforeseen joyous end
Of her already dying innocence
Thank you for the nights full of passion
Thank you for your mouth and hands
that make me lose control
that make me melt like an ice cube
in the sun
Thank you for coming into my life
Even if it’s for an instant
Thank you for being here
I wrote this poem in 2006 when I was in the midst of my quarter life crisis.
There was once a place
It was my happy place
But it forever disappeared
When puberty appeared
Now I live somewhere else
Where almost everything fails
Where there are no more giggles
And everyone is fickle
Where being sad
Is the fad
And no one cares
About anyone else
What I would give
To get away from this
And go back to
Where no one is rude
And everyone smiles
And no one is a liar
Life on the BPD 