Tag: poetry

Apology Poem for F* & T* | BPD Early Signs: Toxic Friendship

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Free Write Therapy, Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

Disclaimer: This poem addresses how I acted as a 5-10 year old child. If you are one of the people this poem is written for, please do not take this as me asking for you to reach out or forgive me. This is merely an expressive art therapy process in the form of a free-write poem. I have written it “for” you as my formal apology for any psychological trauma I may have caused you during our childhood friendship.

[Author’s Note: This poem was written immediately after a PTSD episode. It is very raw.]

I was not a friend to you.

I should have been. 

I did like both of you, 

I just liked the games more.

I liked the lies,

The manipulations.

I liked pitting you against each other.

It made me feel powerful,

When I had no other power. . .

Continue reading “Apology Poem for F* & T* | BPD Early Signs: Toxic Friendship” →

If you want to know me, read my poetry

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Free Write Therapy, Platonic Love Poetry

I could write a million stanzas,

And still not convey what I mean.

“If you want to know me,

Read my poetry.”

Is that it? Is that all? 

Do you know me now?

Perhaps you know me as much as you can,

From a one-sided conversation.

What’s the point of it, then?

Of poetry, or the written word at all?

When it’s one person speaking,

And another one listening along?

Is that a human connection?

One person listens to another.

Is that the reason we write?

Or is it just the start?

Don’t Write It Down | Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Free Write Therapy, Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

No actual thoughts in my adolescent diaries,

Only what happened during my day.

All so boring,

So sterile.

What happened at school,

What happened at church,

What happened at work,

What happened at home.

Nothing on my thoughts.

“Your thoughts are normal, no need to keep track.”

Nothing on what I want from life.

“Your life won’t last long, no need to fantasize.”

I don’t care what happened during my day,

I care about what I felt during my day.

But I didn’t write it down,

Writing it down makes it real.

A Poem for My Best Friend | Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Living with Borderline Personality Disorder, Platonic Love Poetry

Ve: Norse name meaning “giver of feeling”

While not a sapphic love,

Ve is a love of the soul,

Of the mind,

And the heart.

One of friendship and radical acceptance, 

We met at very different places.

And yet, I saw my pain reflected.

More than, I saw my love reflected.

Ve’s presence fills you with happiness,

Even when you have none to give back.

Ve’s words fill you with hope,

Even when none seems possible. . .

Continue reading “A Poem for My Best Friend | Living with Borderline Personality Disorder” →

Killing My Evil Side: Living with Borderline Personality Disorder Poem

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

I tried to kill my evil side.

Most times it would evade clutch,

Openly mocking my attempts.

Other times it would allow touch,

Slyly preventing my movements. 

It never stopped

waiting,

watching,

whispering.

I desperately tried to kill my evil side,

While my evil side easily killed me.

Imagine the Blessed Day | Lesbophobia Childhood Trauma

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Free Write Therapy, PTSD Poetry

“I’m not getting married”

…to a man was unsaid.

Not imaginable, the day

Nor the flowers, or bouquet

What a day it could be!

Those purest gathered around us,

Sharing the moment two souls join in God.

“What will he look like?”

Why can’t I see him?

“What will he say to you?”

Why can’t I hear him?

“What will his personality be?”

Why can’t I imagine him?

“Imagine the blessed day,

your wedding day,

an eternal husband awaits.”

Why can’t I breathe?

All Sapphics Are Poets

Posted on by Brittan in All Poems, Lesbian Poetry

Looks of longing

Never touching

Always feeling

Fear superseding

—

Pain connect us

Past generations hear us

Sappho

E. Dickenson

A. Lorde

Their words repeat back to us

Ringing true in our ears

—

How long must it last,

An artform taken from despair?

One day all Sapphics won’t be poets,

But all poetry is Sapphic