Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Pretty Princess

me in 2018

I wrote this poem in 2019 while going through a deep depression and reflecting on my crazy year of 2018. I put myself in a place where I was constantly objectified by men and even my friends. It felt good since at that time I felt the high of unhealthy validation for a while but then it got tiring.

Princess 

They call me 

They treat me as such

A Princess

Stuck in a tower

Of a dead end life

A Princess

Objectified 

By everyone 

From strange men

To 

So called good friends

A princess 

Everyone wants to

Save, compliment, or fuck 

But rarely love

Pretty princess

Trapped within 

The walls of a sexist society

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: Quisiera Ser

Escribi este poema en Febrero del 2003 pero no me acuerdo quien inspiro este poema.

Yo quisiera ser
esa mujer
que te hace olvidar
Todo ese mal
de aquella mujer
que te hizo perder la fe
yo quisiera besar
Todas las heridas
De sus desgraciadas mentiras
Yo quisiera ser algo más
Que simplemente tu amiga

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: Gracias

Este poema lo escribí en el 2000. Estaba loca por alguien que me hacía sentir todo.

💘💘💘

Gracias por las noches apasionadas
Que me has brindado
Gracias por tu sonrisa
y esa boca que me vuelve loca
Esas manos que me hacen
Derretir como el sol al hielo
Gracias por llegar a mi vida
Aunque sea por un momento
Gracias por estar aquí

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Memory

This was another poem I wrote about the first Andrew in early 2003. I think I was dreaming about him a lot and got inspired. I think at the time I kept returning to this past memory of love because I wanted to hold on to the hope that someone like the first Andrew was out there for me.

The memory of you visits me
And a realization washes over me
You were the light in the dark tunnel
in my then hopeless life
You were the song in my heart
That I can’t stop seem to stop playing
Now matter how loud the music
Of my new life tries to drown you out

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Pathetic Games

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.

Never

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