Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: romantic misfortune

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

so relatable

I breathe grief in, I exhale grief out
my pain needs a way out
because despair and sorrow fill up my lungs
and anger sits at the bottom of my stomach
and I’m tired of living like this
a life full of emotional intensity
And supposedly there’s a cure for it
with therapy and radical acceptance
but how do I accept that every man
who’s ever professed his love to me
always leaves
Will my romantic misfortune one day end?
or am I destined to repeat the same story
of abandonment
over and over again?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: consequences

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

for real for real….

the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards
everytime I start to believe in love it never works out
Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction
and i try and try again only always to have the same ending
and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me
to endure another love failure
someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind
about me on a whim
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen
notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: cochran street

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

Cochran street was supposed to be our bright new start in a new country
naive immigrants we all were thinking america would accept us
thinking our family would have our back
instead my parents were exploited and me and my siblings
were treated like indentured servants-
we never talk about how the toxic it all was

or the trauma it brought or how we tried to fit in a country
where we were squares in a peg holes
and how dad fell further into his addiction and depression
and we don’t talk about any of this because dirty laundry
is never aired out in public

Posted on by pattytacuri

exercise

Daily writing prompt
What do you do to improve your sleep?
View all responses

The main thing I’ve done to improve my sleep is try to go to the gym consistently. I do this especially when I’m depressed, super stressed out or just feeling super angry. It helps to relax me and it tires me out. Sometimes, when it’s not so hot, I do try to go for a 30 min walk/jog. It’s also helpful for mental clarity. There’s also something about the right song hitting when you’re on the treadmill or stairmaster that’s rather powerful and invigorating. I always leave the gym in a much better mood.

el gym es vida

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: under siege

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

my beloved LA is under siege
the place that saw my immigrant child self grow,
and learn English
the place my parents decided to make their new home
the place with tastiest hot dogs at culver city mall

my beloved LA is under siege
and all I can do is watch the carnage be livestreamed
and I’m transported once again to the L.A riots in 1992
when I was 11 and violence and madness
was a stone’s throw away from our small apartment
while mami pretends nothing’s happening
as she cooks dinner
and we’re all glued to the TV

my beloved LA is under siege
and I couldn’t be prouder of my people standing loud
and with a firm grip of love and justice
for the most vulnerable of us
whose only crime was to come this country
in search for a better life

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: maybe I’m the problem

I wrote this poem in June of 2025.

I try to banish the clouds of doubts and insecurities in me
everytime I’m in love, I get like this
everytime I start to feel comfortable in a new sanctuary
I start to question
if i’m worthy, if i’m deserving
is it possible that really, I’m the problem
and the one who sabotages everything

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: warzone

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

you can go your own way-fleetwood mac

I’ve walked through the warzone of my love life long enough to know
when a bomb is about to explode (when I fall of some guy’s dream girl altar)
It’s a minefield full of suppressed feelings
consequences of accommodating to a man’s ego
And I’ll tread ever so carefully
I don’t want to be alone, I just want to be loved,
I’ll bend and bend until you call me Gumby
Except I’m not and then I’ll snap and another bomb will go off
“You’re crazy,” you’re dangerous” “ I don’t recognize you”
all for expressing my feelings and wanting respect and dignity

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: silver lining

I wrote this poem in May of 2025.

that silver lining turned into a dark cloud real quick

phosphene blooms across the room
when I catch you staring at me
and I feel an electric shock go through me
this feels like a new kind of crazy
this feels like a new stirring of hope
I never expected to feel this way ever again
And this feels like my silver lining
a long time coming




Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: wolf

I wrote this poem in May of 2025.

💗💗💗

I’m the girl who screamed wolf in love in my poems one too many times
always acting like I’m the victim
always acting like I’m the hurt party
always acting like I’m fucked over in love when the truth is
I too have broken hearts
I too am shit at relationships
I too dispose of men once they fall off from my pedestal
and so perhaps, I need to stop screaming wolf
and accept that every once in a while
I am the wolf who’s capable of destroying and disposing of people as well

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: silence

I wrote this poem in May of 2025.

I punish the men in my life with silence
I learned it from my mom
she’d last days without saying a word to my dad
after a fight
always waited until he broke down and apologized
she always needed to win
and while I’m not as brutal as her
I need to protect myself when a man makes me feel
like I’m not good enough, like I’m a monster
so I walk away calm and give a silence so deafening
they’re ask a million questions why
they’ll search answers in between the lines
of the posts I write
and if they’re smart enough and get the hint,
they’ll stay away from me

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poetry: That Last Text

I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

The first and last time I tried to die
I tried to get everything right
I wrote letters to my loved ones
and swallow each pill one by one
All that was easy enough
but really dying was tough
Something inside me was too stubborn
And sent one last text out to a friend
who alerted my husband
Between her and him, I never reached my end
but in that moment
I understood the suicidal writers and poets
Living is exhausting,living is agonizing
I yearned for the sweetness of death
to take away my mediocre breath
But the universe or God had other plans
And today I finally understand
Living is painful,living is terrible
But living is also beautiful
and really living is admirable