Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: getting to reality

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

self love is sexy

I fall in love easily
Reckless without abandon
Wanting to give him
My everything
This is my fairytale
I am sixteen

I fall in love with caution,
with time, with patience
with acceptance
Wanting to give him
My forever
This is my fairytale
I am 23

I fall in love immediately
Impulsively, sexually
Wanting to give him a love
he’s never known before
This is my fairy tale
I am 37

I fall in love with laughter,
With dancing, with practicality
I want to give him my life
This is my fairytale
I am 39

I fall in love with my body
With my creativity, with my resilience
I want to pour all the love I have
Into myself
I am 40
This is my reality

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: he’s praying for me

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

Quote about self love
Choosing yourself is self love

My former lover prays for me because I won’t fuck him
Is this how it feels like to change my story from on call whore
to an I’m healing and deserve better “Woman
Is this how it feels like to to go from fun girl to healthy woman
I use to measure my worth by who loved me or who wanted to fuck me
but those days of impulsivity and “hey, this will be fun”
are long gone
Now are the days of painful transformations,therapy worksheets, self reflection
and most importantly self love
So I put away my sexy vixen persona
And I put on my ” “I’m authentic without apologies persona”
I’ve stopped living to please others
and now live to please myself

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Sanity

I wrote this poem in January of 2018 .

me in 2018 around the time I wrote this poem

I’m disappointed once again -being here with you
You represent everything I thought I wanted
But-
You don’t compare to him
You make my body sing with pleasure
but don’t sweep up the mess that I am
You are there to help me escape
but never to rescue me
SO I choose him
Who chooses to be there for me
When I chase death in a bathtub or a bottle
Because while sex and lust feels good
when it’s happening
It doesn’t compare to the love
and support he’s provided in keeping me alive
So I say goodbye to a life
Full of lust filled fantasies
and accept the one and only who truly
cares for me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: invisible string

I wrote this poem in January of 2025.

this poem has to be one of the most unhinged things I’ve ever written

My past called to me and I made the mistake of answering it
and looked for the former main characters in my life
Stalked them on google and social media
and most of them didn’t want to be found
perhaps they did the right thing in wanting to live their lives
in peace without their ghosts haunting them
but two of the ones who had the great impact on me
both of them are happily married
one of them has a son my youngest son’s age
I’m glad he grew out of his peter pan syndrome
and the other is about to finally become a dad at 43
his lifelong dream come true after waiting for so long
I’m trying to be happy for him
and with all that I’m ready to really close that chapter
On my past because while I was distracted from my grief
And highly entertained by my theatrics and my shitty choices in men
when I was in my twenties
Its time to stop this business of reminiscing of what was
and what could have been
Its time to accept what is and what could be
and focus on making my own lifelong dreams come true
And be open to my invisible string out there somewhere
waiting for me

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: My Sister y Yo

I wrote this poem in January of 2020.

me in January of 2020

She’s an American
I’m an immigrant
She loves Trump
I’m a borderline socialist
She believes in money and brand names
I believe in love and poetry
Born from the same womb
But living in different worlds
She’s upper middle class
I’m working class
She’s latina when it suits her
I’m latina every single day
She’s the definition of assimilation
I get called out by HR for being too Peruvian
She’s the American Dream
And I’m the immigrant

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: American

I wrote this poem in January of 2025.

so American, I walk around with ketchup on my face

el tio Julio always spoke English to us, the kids
didn’t matter who we were with or where we were
I think he was an advocate of assimilation at an early age
I think he wanted all of us to have a fighting chance
in our adopted homeland
perhaps this was an act of kindness on his part
he knew that in order to survive in the USA
we had to leave behind the part that made us seen as a foreigner
and become as American as possible

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: even

I wrote this poem in 2021.

Even after she’s destroyed
she goes to work the next day
plasters a fake smile on her face

Even after she’s devastated
she gathers the pieces of her heart
and reluctantly shows up
where she’s needed

Even after she’s knocked down
she gets up cloaked in strength
and continues to move forward
with a brand new determination

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: mess

I wrote this poem in January of 2025.

my uncle’s death has awakened something in me
and while I think he was mostly good and don’t judge him
I’m sad he didn’t live his life authentically
I’m sad he couldn’t bring himself to leave his loveless marriage
I’m sad he hurt his second wife by cheating on her with the first
I’m sad that for more than half a century he was deeply in love
with a woman he could never have
I wonder what would have happened if my uncle made it to therapy
and tamed his demons
I wonder if eventually he could’ve found some happiness and love
in his life or perhaps I’m wrong
and he was content with the mess he was inside

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: confusion

I wrote this poem in January of 2021.

so true

I live in a constant world of confusion
Confused about who I am-
Confused about who I should be-

I live in a strange world of confusion
Confused about how I feel
Confused about how I should feel

I live in a crazy world of confusion
Confused about who I love
Confused about who I should love

I live in a chaotic world of confusion
Constantly and pathetically confused about who is the real me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: beyond redemption

I wrote this poem in January of 2025.

the kind of energy this poem brings

under a tequila sunrise in L.A,he breaks apart once again
she committed the ultimate act of treason against him
and he couldn’t forgive her again
this time he couldn’t put a bandaid of his love
to make it all better
this time he had a son to think about
this time his family would disown him if he stayed with her
so he packed up her stuff, put the boxes and suitcases
of her belongings outside
changed the locks and filed for divorce
even as he broke inside, he held all of his emotions in
and even though he considered her the grand love of his life
he had to cut all ties with her
this time she hadn’t just broken law of not just decency
and morality with her actions
this time her horrid actions made her beyond redemption
this time she had gone too far

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: Karen and Susan

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

Disappointed
Disappointed

They’re typically blond and white
and think they’re entitled to every fucking thing
they always want to speak to the manager
their names sound like Karen and Susan
they’ll pretend to have loads of empathy
when what they really have is tons of judgment
they’ll hide behind a pseudo wokeness
when underneath they’re racist as fuck
they complain about the unfairness of their lives
when their lives are the definition of privilege and luxury
they’ll shove their higher education in your face
when their ignorance shows in their actions
they supposedly live, laugh, and love
when they really hate, judge, and shame
their names sound like karen and Susan

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poem: Immigration

I actually started writing this poem sometime in 2017 and finished it in January 2020. A big part of my identity is being an immigrant. This poem was inspired by the hardships and struggles I’ve seen my parents and other immigrants go through. This poem was also inspired by the Trump administration and the xenophobia that was felt in my life during that time.

Here is an audio link to my family’s immigration story: https://www.mixcloud.com/rabbitbox/rb50-stranger-in-a-strange-land-immigration-stories-patricia-tacuri/

me in January 2020 when I finished this poem

immigration leads to discrimination
of immigrants into this so called united nation
the ones with brown skin and dark eyes
justice to them is greatly denied
xenophobia is the driving sensation

their bosses sing a song called exploitation
and they hum along to it to live in this democratic nation
they leave their language and culture behind
to endure the american lie
but don’t quite fit into the gringo equation

Is their sacrifice worth so much separation
from their families, their language, and their nation?
Ah-America – the land of the free
yet none of them are truly free
living in a soulless and consumerist society

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: 2025

I wrote this poem in January of 2025.

the ultimate story of empowerment

In 2025, I will be braver than ever
I will embody the word empowerment
while embracing softness and vulnerability
I will love and allow myself to be loved
life is really too short to allow my ego
and pride to get in the way
of whatever love story the universe
wants to send me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: is this it?

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

me manifesting hard for this moment

found love where I least expected it
and when it happened
it felt like an earthquake where the ground
broke from under me
it felt like all of the hurt and pain experienced
before had been worth it
for the one waiting in the wings for me
as he sits by me and reassures me
when the world feels chaotic and overwhelming
He tells me I’m one of the best things
that happened to him
and has never made me feel less
or like a burden to him
and all of it still feels so strange to me
is this really happening to me?
or is it all a dream?
and I finally at the end of my marathon of lust and love
I have been running since the age of 15

Posted on by pattytacuri

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