Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: To the One Who Claimed to Love Me

I wrote this in the summer of 2019 during a break from “C”. I think that during this break, I thought we were really done and I was super salty about it.

Me in the Summer of 2019

To the one that claimed to love me

I was yours, you had me

But you decided to dispose of me

I wrote poetry about you

Thinking your feelings were true

But my feelings, you made fun of

By claiming you felt love

You treated me like a barbie doll

And you told me over and over and over again

I love you

When your words should have been 

I love fucking you

You claimed to not be “that guy”

Yet you almost made me want to die

You claimed to be different

But you turned out to be the same

Asshole man 

You claimed I was the only one

But I was one of many you used for fun

You acted like you cared 

You wore your lies well

And now that our lust filled 

Fiasco is done

I still don’t regret that I was the one

Who loved you honestly, genuinely,

Purely-

And you blew your chance 

At ever having me

You were a hard lesson to learn 

And I was the girl 

You weren’t ready for 

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Merry Go Round of Fuckery

I wrote this in the summer of 2019 about C when we were on another break. Thinking back on this period in my life when I would get so mad about him ghosting again and again and going back to him again and again feels so strange now. I don’t feel like the same person that wrote this.

me in the summer of 2019

We’re back here once again

You ghost, you ignore, you abandon

And I beg you to come back

It’s our merry go round of fuckery

I’m mad,I’m sad, I’m done

I’m finally almost recovered 

From you-

Trying to forget you, mourning you,

 Accepting you’re gone –

And then a text from you

It’s our merry go round of fuckery

Crying, writing, running

Each day it gets easier

Learning to forget you

But then, a “how are you”

Appears on my phone

It’s our merry go round of fuckery

Will you ever go away?

Am I always going to be this insane?

When will I get off from 

   Our merry go round of fuckery?

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Poetry: My Bad Habit

I wrote this about C. in the late summer of 2020 after we were yet on another break. I guess the sex really made me obsess over him.

me in the summer of 2020

I can’t turn my body off 

From wanting you

Even if you make my heart blue

You take up space in my brain

Even when you bring me so much pain

Why does lust make me so blind?

You are my obsession 

Even after your devastation

You show up in my dreams

I wish you didn’t exist 

I wish there was a spell

To forget how you made me melt 

I’m sure that time

Will make your memory fade

And will time

make me heal from 

The experience of you 

I just wish that time

Would speed up so that

You were only a distant memory

That I already learned to forget

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Poetry: Another Girl

I wrote this in 2001 after experiencing a really bad break up. Break ups tend not just break my heart but also make question my self worth. It’s really hard for me to get over someone especially if I get super attached to that person. In this case, I had been with the dude for like 2 months and I guess thought that maybe he was “the one”. Well that wasn’t the case when I found out he had been cheating on me the entire time. At least it inspired dozens and dozens of poems. Lol.

You make me feel like shit

and it’s breaking me bit by bit

I don’t know what to do 

Knowing you love someone new

I feel so helpless

I’ve become such a big mess

and now seeing you and her

I see now that I was just another girl

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Poetry: Reborn

I wrote this in late 2007 as I reflecting about my life and how much I had changed.

The nostalgic ocean

reminds me of

everything that 

I’ve lost.

Former flames, former friends

swept in a 

wave from under me.

My former self

died in that wave.

When the wave

came back…

I was stronger 

and better.

I was reborn again.

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Ghost of Mamacita

I wrote this poem in 2018 shortly after the death of my maternal grandmother/mamacita. My grandmother lived in a time where her opportunities were very limited by society’s rules about what a woman should be.

The ghost of my grandmother 

  hangs above me 

Her spirit swallows and 

  Envelops me-

It tells me to live

  a life full of passion and love

Without self imposed boundaries

It tells me to stop 

 being afraid of my promise 

  and potential

  and takes risks and 

  Go for my dreams

  No matter how many 

    obstacles stand in my way

It tells me that I only 

 have one life left to live

And I need to start 

living it fully instead

 of standing on the sidelines

Waiting for something or someone 

to rescue me

It tells me 

Stop waiting

Now it’s your turn

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Independence Day (a love poem)

I wrote this poem in the summer of 2019 when C had ghosted me for the millionth time and I thought that I was finally done with him and I was determined not to go back with him. Of course, that wouldn’t be the case. This relates to one of my BPD traits which is fear of abandonment. I think one of the reasons I kept letting him come back.

Me in the Summer of 2019 when I wrote this poem

I’m finally free 

Of the spell 

You have over me

I’m finally free

Of the butterflies 

I felt when I saw your text

I’m no longer blinded

By your callous ways

I will no longer tolerate

Your undercover mistreatment

I can no longer be part of

My continuing self destruction

I’ve learned to stay away

From the intensity of your gaze

I’ve learned to love myself enough

To stop holding on to your false love

I’ve learned to stop ruining my life..

Because of our connection?

Our chemistry?

Nah, it’s just bomb ass sex. 

I’ve learned that my self worth 

Can’t be tied to you, my toxic lover

My self worth

Is tied into my self love

Into loving the best parts 

And the worst parts of me

But most of all I’ve learned 

That no amount of orgasms

Or passionate kisses

Or sparks 

Are worth me agonizing 

Once again

If I’m good enough

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Poetry: She Flew

I wrote this poem in February of 2006 when my mother in law passed away suddenly. I knew for a short time but she was one of the most gracious and kindest individuals I ever met.

She flew one afternoon without warning

To a place unknown 

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

And now everyone left behind 

has  puddles dripping from their eyes

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

Regrets and remorse

Have become our two worlds

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

No fancy words could ever express

How it feels to lose your best

Why did she have to fly?

Was it really her time?

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Don’t

I wrote this poem 2002 and it was yet another poem inspired by the bio dad of my oldest child. For many years. I had so much unresolved rage and anger about how he abandoned my son and used poetry as a way to process it.

Don’t even try to understand me

You don’t even know me

I was born with your DNA

But to you, I have nothing to say

I once was a babe, a boy

And now a man

Don’t pretend to give a damn

I’ve done grown up to become

A man unlike you that doesn’t run

No thanks to you “Dad” 

You left when I was a mere lad 

So please go on on your way

I can’t stand the sight of you

Another day