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poetry: new year’s day

I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

me in January of 2023

On new year’s day of 2023,I have resolutions but they’re simple
a trip to my homeland that’s been set in stone
teaching my son to drive
a divorce as a late birthday gift to myself
keep my bangs because that’s really who I am
pushing my oldest son to be more independent
Continue to share my poetry with the world unapologetically
Be wary of anything that pollutes my energy
try my best to ebb and flow with the turbulent waves of my emotions
take any obstacles that might occur in life in stride
make more time for my friends and family
become a new kind of brave woman
and continue to do things out of my comfort zone
to help me grow and evolve
become an example of determination, discipline, and creativity for my kids
to follow-
and continue to inspire others with my journey of self discovery
2023 will be chaotic with everything I’m planning
2023 will be the year where I’m the definition of bravery

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day eleven of patty: me and my trauma

I wrote this poem in november of 2023.

it’s me and my trauma-watch out, there won’t be a story left untold

I hold hands with my trauma and show her off to everyone
most people look at her with curiosity
some people are horrified
my family cringes and and whispers to me,
“it’s embarrassing, showing her as some kind of trophy”
I get mad and flip everyone off
and me and my trauma link arms and skip on our way
to share her story and create drama and chaos
who cares if no one understands our process
of how sharing her story is the key to my recovery

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day seven of patty: marie antoinette

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

that working class and immigrant rage is no joke

she thinks she should be thanked for flexing her confidence
clothed in privilege and luxury by posting advice to women
about how dining alone in a fancy restaurant is women’s empowerment
and I have an adverse reaction that makes me want to vomit
it feels like a modern day Marie Antoniette moment
perhaps it’s because I’m a working class immigrant woman
who struggles in America
perhaps it’s because the rights of the marginalized and working class
are being ripped away from us
and on my social media feed, this yuppie and elitist bullshit appears
how can I be friends with this bleached blonde Barbie
oh yeah, we worked together briefly
and I almost start to comment with an essay on how she should
check her privilege before handing out tokens of toxic positivity
while people like me are drowning in debt and lack financial stability
but I stop
this barbie isn’t worth my time or energy
it’s time to unfriend and unfollow the marie antoinette wannabe
who only serves to trigger my working class rage
who serves to remind of the injustice and inequality
in this capitalistic and racist American society

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day four of patty: mortal

I wrote this poem in April of 2023.

it’s okay to make mistakes-it’s part of being human

I almost drowned in a whirlpool of shame today because I made a mistake
because I’m an imperfect human
but I breathe in deeply self compassion and grace
and accept this is a small blunder in my life
and it shouldn’t take up too much space in my mind
And I needed to be a friend to myself
Understand I won’t always be flawless-
Afterall I’m only mortal

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poetry: private thing

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

pouty Pisces

This time it will be different-I lie to myself over and over again-
and for a while I’ll believe it-but it never works out and they always leave-
And I wonder how words fail me when this happens-
it’s a magnitude of emotions-
Intense, mega, uber, all consuming, overwhelming-
Some things cannot adequately expressed even with bilingual vocabulary-
maybe not everything is meant to be written down
it’s just meant to be felt, held intimately in my heart and mind
maybe it’s a private thing between me and the universe

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poetry: bet

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I never mind being called the “crazy ex”

I bet now months go by and he never thinks of me-
maybe he does when he sees a crazy bitch on his feed
he’ll remember me for a moment
and think “damn, I dodged a bullet”
and then he’ll scroll on to something else
that’s way more interesting

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: staying sober

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

fucking facts

staying sober from a lover is not easy for a love addict like me
it’s crying in bed wishing I was dead
it’s loneliness, making me crumble in a ball on the floor
making me feel unloved
and even though I have the cure with a text
to someone who’d put me out of my misery
I’d rather suffer for a while
even if it is a hell of a withdrawal
because if I’m ever going to have a healthy relationship
I need to be comfortable first with solitude
and the much needed introspection and healing it brings

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poetry: integration

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

ready to get to integration


The scared and anxious little girl and the insecure and clingy woman tug at me-
I try to avoid them and lock them up in a box, but it never happens that way
They refuse to go away when a trigger of trauma visits me
And once again, I am lost in the alter ego I made up to protect myself
the one who shows up in confidence and screams through her poetry
but if I want to reach integration
I need to allow the little girl and the insecure woman space to reside within me
and honor them with powerful words of praise
because they, too, were part of my strength and resilience through the many traumas
It may feel painful at times-but for me to get to become a whole person
and reach emotional maturity – I need to walk hand in hand with the ones
who made me the powerful and confident woman I currently am

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poesía: quien soy

here’s the english version of this poem:

Poetry: Last Week

no se quien soy-esa es mi verdad
todos tienen sus opiniones acerca de quién soy
o quien debo ser
Madres, hija, trabajadora, estudiante, hermana y novia
son los papeles asignaron a mi-
pero me siento una impostora, una fracasada en todos esos roles
y sin saber quien soy debajo de las capas de estas identidades forzadas
sobre mi persona-
quien soy, quien soy, quien soy

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: deer in the runner’s eyes

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

the deer is vibin and thrivin

Running away from my feelings, running away from my thoughts
I will my legs to keep going as they start to groan
and threaten to turn to mush
the autumn sun shines on me and this should lift my spirits
but the gloom stay within as I run, run, run
Running away from my feelings, running away from my thoughts
I still hate everything-especially myself
Thinking of all my wrongs and how I’m doomed to a life
of solitary confinement
Will I ever fix what’s wrong with me?
and then I see it-a deer a few yards away from me
3 second glances are exchanged it runs across the road
away from me-
and something shifts in me
hope is awakened with a reminder of nature’s splendor
it puts everything in perspective
I am but a speck in the universe
a creation of GOD
It’s a waste to focus on past regrets and could’ve beens
I need to seize the moment of what is and what could be-
and I run on to the next chapter of my life