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

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: 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

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: 8 years ago

I wrote this poem in December of 2024.

I am a miracle

8 years ago, I didn’t want to be here and took 15 sleeping pills
one for every miserable year I found myself stuck in a story
that filled me with misery
8 years ago, I didn’t want to be here and tried to disappear
by any means necessary
my demons and inner critic were getting to me
and I couldn’t find my way out of the abyss I had fallen in
and thought it be easier to cease to exist
8 years I didn’t want to be here and felt so weak
I didn’t think I could make it
but 8 years later, I’m still here and even though
it’s kind of a shitty day with so many things looming over me
and my hormones and emotions are getting the better of me
making me borderline psychotic
I am still glad I EXIST
I’m grateful I’ve lived to see mine and my son’s many milestones
I’m grateful for the person I am now who always triumphs
over each catastrophe and tragedy
and everything experienced between the extreme highs and lows
of life
I’m filled with love and compassion and with a hidden excitement
for what’s to come
I’m filled with awe and wonder for the miracle that is me

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

Posted on by pattytacuri

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