Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: August 2009

They should go out of their way

August 2009

In anticipation of the night
I was excited to see you
But then we met
And the look you gave me
said it all
without saying anything
at all
I had warned you
I had changed
But you refused to believe it
and held onto
an idealistic image of me
in your head
Worthless small talk ensued
Even though there was
nothing left to say
Your body language screamed:
“Get the fuck away from me”
But a small trickle of hope
cemented my feet to the ground
next to you
And then a sorry excuse
trickled from your lips
And you left me stranded
that night

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Poetry: Spiritual Journey

Summer Child

The journey into the broken pieces of my soul makes me cry out from agony felt
Solitude, vitamins, a healthy and boring routine
Affirmations with big and healthy dose of self compassion
are the requisites for healing and growth-
it’s a spiritual journey into healing my inner child
and it fucking hurts

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poetry: model

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

my son wants to be a model and I worry about what this means for him
in my eyes I think he’s perfect the way he is
in one year he went from my cherub angel to a handsome lanky stranger
but he thinks he still needs a lot of work
so he goes on nightly runs until he’s breathless
lifts weights he borrows from his older brother
applies all kinds of lotions to try to get rid of little blemishes
He tells me, “I already have the perfect personality,
now I just need the perfect body and I nod in grief,
“already at 13, he feels that heaviness of the unrealistic standards
of beauty placed on him

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poetry: bothered

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

trying to not be bothered

when I’m bothered, when I’m embarrassed, when my inner critic
starts knocking on my mind’s door
the best thing I can do is reapply my lipstick, write some angry señora poetry
Remember the goddess that I am, and take my power back
I’m not some stupid and weak little bitch some people perceive me to be
(that narrative ended at age 40)
now, I take the disrespect and insults with grace
keep my composure, pretend I’m unbothered
even as I fume inside
I still keep on going
I won’t make a big fuss or call anyone out
that story usually ends with me being gaslit and called crazy
instead I adhere to the age old adage “aqui no paso nada”
Really being the opposite which is everything
my anger, rage, grief being the fuel to become better
to prove to myself and others
I’m not the mentally unstable bitch society perceives me to be

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: bomb

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

so annoying

the bomb of my insanity explodes and I try my best
to do damage control
tell my paranoid inner child not everyone’s out to get me
but it’s too late and I fall once again under the spell of depression
I try every single coping mechanism and it’s futile
I just need to sit and acknowledge my inner critic
and the dark and intrusive thoughts that come up
Understand and accept that shit is temporary
there will be better times ahead
for now it’s just annoying

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry:not right now

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

trying to be logical

love will have to wait while i switch the gears from survival mode to triunfadora mode
right now I can only concentrate on existing and putting one foot in front of another
right now I only have the energy and time to focus on myself
and digging myself out of the latest catastrophe I find myself in
right now is not the time for crushes or new relationships
it wouldn’t be fair to him to invite him into my current chaos
right now I stand alone, get myself together
before trying to fall into the magic of love again

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poetry: timid

I wrote this poem in August of 2024.

in the thick of my depression

I feel timid lately and want to hide in a tomb
the kind of tomb you’d find on the grounds
in some decrepit motel
there I wouldn’t have to function at all
there I could get lost in my thoughts
and make up scenarios in my head
There’s no one’s energy would impact me
in a way that makes me feel hopeless and worthless

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Poetry: One Day

One day I’ll find the one who’ll break down the fortress
that guards my vulnerability
He’ll know how to handle me
He’ll tell me “I’m impossible when I’m too much”
but will show his love and loyalty
he’ll annoy me because he’s human
but our joy will outweigh our conflict
and we’ll stress each other out
but never lose sight of the epic love
we feel for one another

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poetry: blog

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

cute girl with a sick mind-Camila Cabello

maybe I restarted the blog for a younger version of us out there
in another state, another country who needs a roadmap,
Understanding, knowledge, and wisdom
in navigating a hard situation they never thought
they had to face
maybe I restarted the blog out of hope that some couple
out there who’s struggling can find something useful
in my story, in my prose, and my poetry
to get through their own hardship through the worst of it
and make it to the other side, evolve and grow together
in intimacy and find their own happy ending

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poetry: not sure

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

me when I wrote this poem

I’m not sure if I have to work as much as I Do
but I know what happens when I don’t
my electric bill goes in the red
a food stamp application is filled and filed
for me and my family
I start to lose sleep over the bills and the things
my kids need
and when I fall into dreamland
dreams of soup kitchens, panhandling,
and scarcity follow me
and I end up in the land of poverty, insanity
and hypervigilance
where I beat myself up for not doing enough
to give my kids the life they deserve
and I regret my life choices that led me here
especially the one where I chose a lazy baby daddy
I’m not sure if I have to work as much as I do
but I’ll continue to do so until my body shuts down
who cares if my hip is broken and I hardly have
any time to myself
I’d rather work myself to the bone than to allow
my family to fall again into being victims of poverty

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: new dark ages

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

in a major depressive episode

these must be the new dark age of my life
where I can’t find my life’s purpose,
where I cry because I don’t think
I’ll ever be loved
where the sleeping pills in my drawers
are tempting me to end my misery

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Monster

So serious
BPD life be like

I’m a real monster when I can’t see past my anger
I want to burn you down
I want you to drown
And at times I can control
my impulsivity and revenge
But sometimes my anger can’t be caged
And I try to keep it in between the pages
of my journal and notebooks
but the resentment becomes too loud
to let you off the hook
So a passive aggressive status post happens
with an intent to insult and offend
I want you to feel my anger all the way revealed
Maybe one day I’ll get much better
not allowing my anger to turn me into a monster

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: not the one

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

I’m not the one you want
or the one you’ll ever take home
to meet your mama
but I’m the one etched in your mind,
the one who appears in your dreams
the one you will never forget about
and one of your few regrets
and you,
you were another story among many
another obsession of my past
I hardly ever think about

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: today

I wrote this poem in July of 2024.

we had the same vibe

it wasn’t until today I realized how ordinary you really were
It wasn’t that you were ever that interesting or special
It was me with my lovergirl delusional glasses
refusing to see past what was in front of me
Seeing and getting caught up in fantasies
of who you could be
when really you were, the most ordinary of men
not malicious, not especially intelligent
not really helpful
just kind of existing without any spark
without anything that would  make me
look twice at you now

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

Poetry: So Pretty

Pretty gets me in a man’s door
but also makes me feel like a whore
I’ve been pretty sexy, pretty nice, pretty sweet
I’ve also been pretty crazy, pretty Petty, and pretty mean
men love me when I’m pretty and submissive
but not when I’m pretty reclusive
men want the pretty girl who’s fun
but not when I’m a pretty girl who’s a selfish cunt
pretty gets me notice
but also gets me dismissed