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poetry: chaos

I wrote this poem in November of 2019.

” I was your willing accomplice, honey”- Olivia Rodrigo

Your love comes and goes like the most sudden
and violent gusts of wind
I try to stay in my calm and peaceful place
But I am swept away in your chaos
that bring me to the highest mountain
of lust,intimacy, and love
I want to stay here
I want to die here
in the heaven that is your arms and your lips
But you continually push me away
You dispose of me like trash
not caring about my inner destruction
You break me heart into
millions of pieces
Everytime I try to give myself to you
Your love, your toxic love
Swallows me up and spits me up out
only to break me over and over again

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poetry: death to the season of fuckbois

I wrote this poem in November of 2019.

“psychopathic, don’t be so dramatic, we had magic, but you made it tragic”- Conan Gray

He comes with false promises of respect
and easy and uncomplicated lust
He promises never to hurt you
but it’s all a game to get for him to get laid
He just wants to use you for a hit and run
Once he’s done with you
He’ll discard you like trash
He’ll never see you as a person
He’ll only see you was a receptacle for his cum
He’ll only see you as an object of lust
and at times he’ll even claim to love you
when he sees he’s losing the toxic spell he’s placed on you
but once he’s got you in his bed
He’ll forget about you the next day
So it’s best to stop his emotionally poisonous game
that leaves you always feeling worthless in the end
and delete and block his number
and forget about the fuckboy once and for all

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: the fog

I wrote this poem in November of 2019.

I can’t be your lover on a leash-Conan Gray

Loving you is like being in a fog
of continued self destruction
It destroys my inner being
It destroys my soul
And yet I continually do this
to myself
Love someone
that continues to discard me
Over and over and over and over
again
Love someone
who doesn’t even love himself
Waiting for the fog
to clear is the worst part
Because my heart doesn’t know
how to listen to my head
my heart continually refuses
to let go of my self destruction
that is being devoted to you
But I must, I have to, I need to
allow the fog to clear
To make room in my heart and mind
for someone that truly wants to love me

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: I don’t care

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

if I’m too much for you, go find less

I’m not for the tender and meek
and because of that I might end up
lonely for the rest of my life
and before, it used to bother me
but lately I don’t care
I’d rather be alone facing the world
and my fears without anyone
who’ll judge me or give me
his unsolicited opinion on my life
I finally hold the reins of my autonomy
and I’m not giving that up for anybody

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: casual

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

bud light energy inspired this poem

if we start this again
Boundaries need to be put in place
respect me and we can make this work
let’s keep it casual and leave our feelings
out of it
I’m not looking for anything serious
every time I’ve tried long term love
I’ve crashed and burned
so let’s give this a go
with purely sexual energy
there is no space, energy or time
for anything else
let’s keep things easy and light
devour me, fuck me like a whore
take charge in the bedroom
but not anywhere else
I finally belong to myself
and I’m not changing that
anytime soon

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poetry: breaking the vow

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

ready to break this vow

this time I’ll give myself permission
to let my body explore pleasure
with someone else
telling myself,
“This time I’m keeping it casual,
it’s nothing serious, it’s not a big deal”
I’m just ready to once again
share my sexual magic
write erotic poems about a human
and not my vibrator
it’s time to break my vow of celibacy
and let someone in on my sexual energy

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poetry: river

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

ain’t that the truth

the river of my love for you dried and at first I cried
but then it felt like freedom, it felt like happiness
to no longer obsess over someone who treated me like shit
to feel nothing for someone who caused me a world of pain
over and over again
Does this mean I finally learned my worth?

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poetry: mixed signals

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

I like my bubble

I give you a yard, and you give me an inch-
it’s a game of back and forth nonsense
one where I respect your unspoken boundaries
and need for space
until one day the push back from you
pulled back into a dark place I haven’t been in a while
a place where my confidence breaks, a place where I start to question my worth
a place when my sense of self breaks once again
and I know right there, and then, it’s better to give up
whatever this was
I’ve outgrown men who send me mixed signals

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poetry: witness

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

for real for real

in the juxtaposition of the karens and working class
I find sympathy for both
it’s hard to explain this in between-
it’s an exhausting struggle of understanding
the complexities of the human condition
of wanting to be seen
of wanted to be heard and respected
and I stared in horror, almost breathless
as the karens and the working class
exchange verbal hostile fire
and almost throw hands at each other
as one threatens the other’s livelihood
and the other stood their ground
and I –
was just a witness to the epidemic
of anger in America

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: pretentious uber driver

I wrote this poem in October of 2023.

maybe it was the outfit that made my uber driver nervous

I couldn’t tell if you were nervous or just an asshole
trying to impress me with your knowledge
of shakespeare that came off as mansplaning
which was so cringe and annoying
since I told you I have a degree in English
and I had taken two Shakespeare classes
maybe you didn’t take me seriously
because of how short my dress was
or my thigh-high boots caught you off guard
is it some sort of abomination for me
to be smart and smoking hot
that men treat me like I’m a bimbo
they need to save or mansplain shit to
maybe I should start using it to my advantage
play the role of “pretty woman”
observe how much men underestimate me
and write poetry about it
and make it blog content a year later

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poetry: a long time away

I wrote this poem in September of 2019 and 5 years later, I’m posting it on my 1 year divorce anniversary so this poem is extra special to me.

for real, for real

It seems that my freedom is a long time away
it is almost hopeless to get away from my prison
of obligations and responsibilities
I yearn to escape!
I love my kids
but I’ve stopped loving their dad
the space between us
became too wide a long time ago
and we can never go back
to who we were, who we wanted to be
So now I long to be free of these marital chains
that once upon a time I longed for
As hopeless and as hard as it seems
I’m determined to be free
from my suburban confinement

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poetry: NEVER!

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

goal: to be the scariest!

I’m looking forward to that pisco sour I’ll have
after the judge declares me divorced and free to remarry
-ha- that’s the biggest joke ever
maybe I’ll land in someone’s bed once again
But a ring on my finger -NEVER!-
not in this lifetime, not as long as I breathe
instead I’ll claim my single status
And relish in it as long as I can

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: words

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

I’m armed with my notebooks and journals full of poems and stories

what cannot be said aloud will be written in a poem
for better or worse
I have a tendency to process my emotions
in metaphors and verse
and while many wouldn’t call what I write poetry
because I lack technique or an MFA
or whatever else I’m missing
I’m going to keep writing my raw emotions
Down and sharing them
My words hold value,
My words have power
And it has helped and a few other souls
when our feelings lack logical explanations
and reasons
For better or worse I’m going to continue
to tell my story in poetry

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Mama Killa’s Message

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

me on my last day of therapy

In humility I ask mama Killa for guidance
To send me a sign of some kind
as I start to unravel and lose myself in my anxiety
and insecurities
As I start to question if I’m on the right path
and throw myself a pity party and cry
because no one is coming to save me
And how despite all the empowerment
I feel with my autonomy
I still miss being in a relationship
and cover myself up in defeat
Thinking I’ll always be this lonely
But mama Killa sends me a reminder of the love
of sisterhood in my dreams
to remind me I’m on the right path
Mama Killa, in her own way, reassures me that staying
true to myself and continuing what sometimes feels like
a challenging and cringy journey of self-discovery
Is the right thing for me to do in order to heal, to grow, to evolve
and to remember everything will fall into place
as long as I keep going and never give up