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Poetry: Petty Pouts

I wrote this in December of 2021.

and sometimes I’m tired of dancing….lol

I want to find my way to forgiveness
instead I’m covered in hate
I want to find my way to kindness
instead of being stuck in this
cage of anger and rage
I want true radical acceptance
instead of being a victim to my
black and white thinking
I want to be full of Zen
Instead of being full of insecurity
I want a stable sense of identity
instead of this constant confusion about who I am
I want to write about happiness and joy
instead of filling up my pages with petty pouts

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: purpose

I wrote this poem in December of 2021.

Trying desperate to break into an industry
that’s not at all meant for me
feels risky, foolish, and almost stupid
but still I try
and write and write and write
because my words are important
for young and immigrant woman to see
and for my comrades in insanity to experience
and for heart broken souls to find
written words about love, sadness, and strife
is the purpose of my life

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poetry: unhinged

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

I’m someone’s present

on hinge, I became unhinged
some man child told me
I should thank him for expressing
his desire to fuck me
within 5 minutes of talking to him
I wanted to obliterate him completely
cuss him out for how disrespectful he was being
but instead bowed out gracefully
told him, “naw, I’m made for victorian courtship”
he thought I was strange for wanting something
with more substance than casual sex
with a guy from a dating app
told me, “good luck with your AI boyfriend”
and the interaction leaves me sour once again
wondering if I was born in the wrong era
if I’m asking for too much in asking to be
respected and seen as a real person
instead as a temporary toy for men
to play with

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poetry: left behind

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

I used to find it romantic and endearing how in Hollywood stories
the protagonists triumphs over insurmountable obstacles
to find their happy endings
until I notice there’s always a third party who’s left behind
a third party who’s expendable and the cost
of the happy ending the protagonist are granted
it makes me wretched with empathy and feel grief for them
because too often, I’ve known what it’s like to be left
for someone prettier, shinier, easier, MORE EXCITING
and I wonder if it’s time to write stories about them
the third parties left behind who didn’t make the cut
in their lover’s love story

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: storni

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and it was what my spirit needed to be resuscitated
into feeling something
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and I couldn’t wait to show mami
she dedicated Hombre Pequeñito to Papi
and we laugh at his expense for a minute
Alfonsina Storni found me on a cold november night
and I watched her 1957 bio pic with mami
we stood in awe at how progressive it was for its time
but at the same time understood how much progress
still needed to be made for woman kind

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: false start

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

You were one of my false starts this year
it wasn’t your fault though
I tend to get stars in my eyes
over any man who gives me attention,
And is equally emotionally unavailable

It’s a lethal combination for me
And even if I know better,
I always fall for it
except this time
I fell harder than usual
because you’re also a man
who calls me out on my bullshit

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: damaged

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

your boundaries are clear as spring water
I heard them between the gaps of silence
in our texts
you don’t want to encourage any attention from me
or send mixed messages
so instead, you don’t answer or initiate any conversations
and I don’t blame you for this-
After all, I am batshit crazy, I wouldn’t date me either
so I will no longer bother you
I’ll leave you alone
respect the professional boundaries and walls
you have erected
Take this as another sign from the universe
I’m still too damaged for another chance at love

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: currency

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

she had no choice but to sell her body to provide for her family
without an education, she had to use her beauty as currency
it was her only way out of the curse of poverty
she was born in, out the adobe house she grew up in
so she put on her loudest and reddest lipstick
slid on her garter belt and fishnet stockings
over her slender thighs along with the most revealing
and tightest dress she could find and stood at the corner
with a plastered smile on her face,
poised like a doll for the taking
the only english she knew was
“me love you long time”

4 decades later her sons would make amends and forgive her
even if a couple of them didn’t know who their fathers were
even though this started a generational curse carried on
unintentionally
she just wanted to know what it was like to not struggle
to have enough food in her belly
to be able to wear more than two outfits in a year
it was her pipe dream she wanted to make into reality

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