Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry:next valentine’s day

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

tried to manifest a Luigi this time last year

next valentine’s day I want to be calm especially if I’m still alone
I want my nervous system to be ultra regulated and not the mess
it currently is

next valentine’s day I don’t want to entertain vengeful fantasies
of getting my baseball bat to scare couples in the middle
of their romantic dinner

Next valentine’s day I don’t to keep playing the role of bitter,jaded,
and lonely bitch who allows herself to become a wreck
at the mere mention of romantic love

Next valentine’s day I’m rewriting the script of grief stricken lonely girl
and will make it a day that will reflect on all of the love I have in my life

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: your purpose

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

big Aquarius in Venus Energy

I’ve written dozens and dozens of poems about our story of lust and love
but today I found your purpose
with you I found inspiration and motivation to make myself better
hoping you could really love me
hoping you wouldn’t see me as just a sexual commodity
hoping to make myself worthy of you
and while now I see it was a delusion of mine
to do all of these things for your love
it still helped me to become better than before
it still brought me the resilience, strength and courage
to start living the life I always wanted to live
and plan the future I had always dreamed of
with you and after you-
I became the empowered woman I am today
and for that I thank you

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: feminist

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

a part of my poem “learn patriarchy”

never set out to become a feminist but somehow ended up becoming everything
opposite of what I was taught a woman should be
in my young girl’s mind
a husband and children should have made me happy
even when I observed all of the women around drown in misery
always complaining about their husbands and kids
I thought that maybe with me, it’d be different
and when I found myself in my grown up conditioned woman narrative
I almost tried to die in that reality and knew it was never for me
and for a while I searched for answers in others until I looked within
and understood, i alone am magic
I alone without a man am really enough
and the only one responsible for my happiness and to make my dreams come true
all a man ever did was drag me down and made me feel like the dirt on his shoe
or like an ornament to take out at times for his convenience
and when I realized all of this
that’s when I became an unintentional feminist, unapologetic and unashamed
to be the woman I always wanted to be but had been too afraid to embrace
until my middle age

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: looking

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

ready to live this kind of story

I’m looking for the rhythm of a new heartbeat to fall in love with
A heartbeat that goes with the flow of my intense intimacy
A heartbeat who doesn’t call me angel or princess
only calls me by my name
a heartbeat who’ll fall in love with the real me
and not the idea they have of me
or the persona I play on social media
A heartbeat who can handle my crazy and chaos
A heartbeat who accepts and understands me
and never tries to change me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: dystopian clusterfuck

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

to be honest

me and my family have immigration jokes for day on end
and some of my friends think that’s sick and awful
but its one of the only things
that helps me and my family keep our sanity
in Trump’s American is making fun of our misery and misfortune

it’s how we’ve survived generations of corrupt governments
and wannabe dictators
its how we’ve passed resilience and strength to future generations

sure, we may cry at first as the life we’ve worked hard for
starts falling apart and our plans for the future are shattered
because of a few megarich and corrupt maga idiots
who run our government
but right after we wipe our tears and break out in jokes
and laughter
especially now that what’s supposed to be the land of the free
gets more and more fascist
and we swim closer and closer to nazi waters
the only thing we can do is try to find a way to smile, to laugh,
to find a bit of joy no matter how fucked up in may seem
in this dystopian clusterfuck

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: next time

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

next time, next time, next time
I won’t live in the should haves,
could haves, would haves

next time, next time, next time
I’ll live in my present
and not in my past or future

next time, next time, next time
I won’t feel useless, worthless
or like I’m not enough

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: criminal

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

my face after I wrote this poem

rose gold cross ripped from her neck
handcuffs cutting into her smalls wrists
mami and papi can’t explain why
they’re nowhere to be found
she thought officers were supposed to be good people
but they hurl insults at her and call her a criminal
and at 10 she can hardly grasped
the severity of the situation
they tell her over and over again
“we’re taking you back to where you came from”
and it’s beyond her compression
because her birth certificate says Illinois
because America is the only home she’s ever known

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: the fairy tale died that day

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

I’m pregnant, it’s yours, I want to keep it
I start crying
“Just get rid of it you tell me
he fairytale died that day

I’m at your apartment drunk
And you;re drunk, we fight, then we kiss
And you take me in-but then you feel guilt
And kick me out I
The fairytale died that day

I’m at your apartment
I want to hold you and kiss you
I yearn for you
You imply I can’t be trusted
The fairytale died that day

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesia: incertidumbre

escribi este poems en febrero del 2025.

verdad

la incertidumbre ha sido mi lección más grande en mis últimos 5 años
Nunca sabiendo qué hacer cuando un terremoto emocional
me va a sacudir violentamente
tratando de buscar propósito por el dolor y el duelo
tratando de hacer arte de esto
Algunos dicen que era alquimia y magia
pero yo pienso que alguna palabra o concepto
que todavía no ha sido descubierto

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: don’t fall in love with me

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

Don’t fall in love with me he said to me
right after he got off from me
he wanted to make sure I didn’t get the wrong idea
So he dotted his I’s and T’s of casual fucking
And I didn’t go into a love hysteria
But it was already too late
My intense emotions couldn’t wait
“I love him, he’s my love king”
I was already thinking
the truth is
No one can control a borderline’s mind
And it’s not his fault of mine
that I catch feelings easily
even when you use me sexually
It won’t matter what you say
My mind won’t be swayed

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: so resilient

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

Diseased hip evicted, shiny aluminum to replace it
6 inch scar needed to better my life
80 minutes of the Drs doing their magic
Cutting into me and making me whole
a recovery period of 6 weeks or so they say
third time trying to fix my hip
hopefully the third time  is a charm
all of this just for being born broken,
Damaged and different

everyone admires my strength and resilience
and all I dream about is one day not being defined
by everything I’ve had to overcome,
of ne day not being called resilient
and being seen as more than the turmoil
I’ve had to endure and over come

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: winds of defiance

I wrote this in February of 2021.

The winds of defiance rules my heart
I love someone I shouldn’t
Who stirs up hate and love
within me
I feel underwhelmed
by everything wonderful
in my life
The winds of defiance rule my heart
And I shouldn’t want to run
from my beautiful lover
and yet I want to
And I desire danger and intensity
even if what I really need
is peace and calm

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: mason

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

oh Mason

Mason like the jar was his name
being a fuckboy was his game
He tried to act wise beyond his 23 years
But he was still wet behind his ears
He thought he could deceive me
and lies and lies and lies he told me
told me he lived with a roommate
when it was really his soul mate
He wanted his ice cream and cake
but I saw through his con game
And right away I stopped our lust filled affair
My respect I needed to firmly declare