Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: letting go

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

the day that inspired this poem

within a span of a few minutes, I became my dad and my son became me
he rolls his eyes at me as I give him practical advice on buying a car
is this place reputable?
think of the interest rate
how many miles are on it?
He loses his patience and accuses me of hovering over him
and for the first time I feel empathy and compassion for my dad
Understanding that this parenting gig isn’t easy
and no matter how grown your kids are
It’s hard to let them go and live life according to their own terms

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: new muse

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

not sure when a new muse will appear
I just gave up on my most recent one
I can take a hint
he’s not interested
he’s scared because I’m too crazy
and will fuck up his life
and maybe he’s right
maybe I’m not healed enough,
not intelligent enough
maybe for him I’m just not enough
and this doesn’t make me angry
I’m in the acceptance phase
I’ll no longer bother him
I’ll just let him be
I’ll just wait for a new muse to appear
out of nowhere from my dreams
into my real life
my manifestation game is strong
though sometimes my aim is off

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: crushing

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I still smile at my phone every time I get a text from you
and ugh-crush season is here again-
even as I constantly say, nope, it’s over
we’re better off as friends,
I’ll never be enough for him
So I avoid you but you appear in my dreams
Sometimes we’re a thing,
other times you appear in the background
and I can’t even make it a week
without texting you-and haha-
Surprise, surprise I still like you and ew-
a crush in my middle age
it’s so fucking embarrassing

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: mediocre

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

this really is me

Sometimes I miss our rollercoaster of toxicity
even when you came back to me sober
you still managed to emotionally dysregulate me
and destroy me
and while I’ve tried to find a replacement for you
no one holds a candle to you
no one brings me the level of excitement you once did
everyone feels meh and blah
compared to you, everyone is mediocre

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: shipwrecks

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

Like shipwrecks in a cavern, somehow we came together
putting bandaids of lust to sooth and cover our loneliness
causing chaos and rejecting each other
only to always come back to each other
and it was entertaining for a while
until we both realized it was a waste of time and energy
and fled to different caverns

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: serendipity

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

a moment of serendipity happened when we ran into each other
Christmas shopping
You struck up a conversation and helped me with my bags
and I told you about my plans for higher education
and you said you wanted to help me and got my phone number
we didn’t know at the time, one day we’d form a family
get married and divorced within a span of twenty years
isn’t life, so, so crazy?
How ten minutes of conversation ended up leading to the beginning
of one of my most important stories?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: I dreamt of you last night

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I called you my mr.wrong for a long time and hated myself for loving you-
I knew we weren’t heading anywhere-
you were the complete opposite of me
but connection and chemistry kept me returning to you
Even though I knew one day we’d end
and one day came when we both got sick of our constant toxicity
and shut down our whatevership
And while I know it was for the best and we never wanted the same things-
last night I dreamed of you coming to my house
and sneaking into my bed
And I wonder if part of my subconscious still misses you

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: condesita

escribí este poema en diciembre del 2024.

me at age 9

magneto y locomía sale de la tele
mi tío me llamaba su condesita y mi tía me llamaba linda
y me río porque últimamente me siento como una extraña en mi cuerpo
y mami y sus hermanas me dicen que me estoy volviendo una señorita
pero lo único que veo es un monstruo fea y gorda en el espejo
y quisiera ser delgadita y fina como mis primas
pero por lo menos mi tío y mi tía no me miran así
me miran como un tesoro bello y valioso

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: my muse

I wrote this poem in December of 2021

I met him outside on a hot July night
he was everything I was not looking for
but it was a devastatingly short fall
and then I was lost in him
and everything I wanted him to be
It wasn’t fair to him or I
expectations that were sky high
with him I wanted everything
but he wasn’t ready to be my love king
Perhaps he was just a preview
for a future love dream come true

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: the muse

I wrote this poem in December of 2020.

The words, the phrases, the sentences seep from me
when I think of you, my muse

Words of hate, words of love,
Words of devastation, words of lust

You inspire everything that is great,
You inspire everything that I hate

Spilled phrases about my desire for you
and my disgust for you fills pages of my journal

I hate him, I love him, I can’t live without him
Phrases that bleed from my our toxic love af

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poetry: tomorrow

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

happy Heather Day

radical self compassion and grace falls from my life
as thoughts of crashing my car unintentionally come to the surface of my mind
but this happens every year in early december
the old me from 2016 still wants to be heard and seen
the trauma from her is visiting me mixed with winter and PMDD
and lack of sleep makes me feel incompetent and unworthy of existing
but I resist and resist thoughts of self harm and despair
there is still too much life left in me and besides it’s one bad day out of many
Tomorrow, tomorrow, is another day, another sunrise, another sunset
another brand new beginning

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: jeff

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

desperation and despair sounds like a former friend
calling me out of the blue,
asking me for numbers of drug dealers I used to know
saying it’s a matter of life and death
in shock, I tell him I’m a different person
from who he used to know
I couldn’t help him-the call ends-
I’m no longer the person he used to know
I finally understand my value and worth