Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: eggnog

I wrote this poem in November of 2025.

a shot of eggnog for every time love went wrong
and I end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning
something about the holidays always triggers my depression
and now that the kids are older I no longer have to fake cheerfulness
to be a mom to them
and now that I’m alone once again, I regress back to the bitter bitch
I was before him
and instead of reaching out to him and sending him the dozens of poems
about his departure
Instead, I drink several shots of alcoholic eggnog while listening to olivia rodrigo
as I go into hysterics rereading every single chapter in my book of lust and love
trying to accept I’ll always be a failure in love

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: absurd

I wrote this poem in November of 2025.

Become medusa the minute I’m jealous,
left for another or ignored
and out comes my pouts about how
I’ve been so wrong
I become a monstrosity of absurdity
as I distort reality
but really, none of it was really that deep
all these men were silly passing up
a masterpiece like me
and none of the ever deserved
my angry or creative energy

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: fantasy

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

I wonder who you are-
Will you magically appear one day?
Or are you already in my atmosphere?
somewhere hidden, someone I hadn’t thought of
someone I never would have looked at-
do you stalk me on social media?
do I blow you away or scare you with my poetry?
do you think twice about sliding into my DMs?
do you fantasize about me before you go to sleep?
or maybe you don’t exist and this is one of my fantasies
I just want a hint whether or not you’ll be part my near future

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: heart

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

until we meet again, Peru
i’ll hold you in my heart and dream about the warmth of my tia
and remember the taste of ceviche and carapulcra
and the smell of the busy city streets with too much traffic
America can never compare to your rich history or the warmth of your people

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: breeze

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

the breeze kissed my face in Lima as we drove past the ocean
and I was enchanted I was in love
with the place I was born in
with the place of my ancestors
my Peru is beautiful and magnificent
with a rich history of a people who have been conquered,
of a people who have endured –
of a proud people who carry their patriotism in their hearts and bones
and the best part-I get to call this place home

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: Passionate

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

in Lima, I never had to tone down my theatrics
everyone was just like me
not filtering what was on their mind
they left no thoughts behind
loud and emotional is seen as normal
passionate is the standard
i never had to reign myself in
I could just be without thinking
without doing any explaining

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: horizon

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

I sigh at the horizon in front of me as L.A is under siege again
and this time they’ve declared a state of emergency
I want to avoid the news, turn off my phone for a few days,
lock myself away in a cabin with my boyfriend
somewhere in the appalachian mountains
where I can forget the rest of the world
But I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
I wasn’t raised to look away in the face of injustice
or when the safety of my loved ones are compromised
instead I remain hypervigilant
Always on alert of this administration’s next dickhead move
hoping it’s enough to keep my loved ones protected
from chaos and destruction
hoping one day this madness will end

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: 1821/1921

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

hope in my eyes
me in Autumn of 2021

in 1821, my homeland gained independence from the Spanish crown
who subjugated my people to their whims of supremacy and colonizing ways
200 years later,they celebrated their independence
while, I, their daughter gained my independence from society’s chains
wrapped up in patriarchal and sexist good intentions

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: digging

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

me with my parents

I dig and dig from the skeletal remains of my family’s lore to make art out of it
to pay tribute to my ancestors and my family hates me for it
because no one is sanctified or worshipped in my stories
everyone is shown as who they’ve been
flawed individuals with mistakes made
with self induced tragedies, with victims
and generational curses left and passed down to us

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: susurros

escribí este poema en septiembre del 2022.

los susurros de mi alma me dicen
que por fin me acepto como soy
que por fin me entiendo completamente
que por fin siento un agradecimiento
por una vida llena de dos lenguajes
dos culturas y dos hogares
soy la hija de nacimiento de Perú
y la hija adoptiva de América
soy la sangre de los Incas
con la mentalidad de Washington

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: bicutural

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

I breathe in America I exhale out Peru
I’m distant, cold, and reserved at times
I’m warm, nurturing and dramatic at times
I was born in Peru, land of the Incas
land of the conquistadores
and have the blood of both run through my veins
along with their determination and fortitude
I was raised for most of my life in America
and lost part of my language and culture
and gained an individualistic American mindset
I breathe in America, I exhale out Peru
never had a choice in this bicultural existence