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poetry: June 2014 Me

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

2014 me in the blue hoodie-2023 me in the red dress,

The ME from June of 2014 sends me a message asking, where are you?
I tell her, life didn’t go as planned-you’re divorced and looking for a place for your ex
but your kids are thriving-your oldest son has his driver’s license and is on his last semester of college
Your middle son will graduate from high school this year-
and your baby is now taller than you and becoming his own person
You’re working 2 jobs and you’re a citizen now and you’ve been to therapy
to learn healthier coping mechanisms-
you even drive now-you’re independent as fuck and live life on your own terms
you’ve even been to Peru twice-
You’re learning to follow your intuition and how use discernment in your choices
in how you live your life-
you’ve discovered your values underneath everything society brainwashed into you
and at the end of the day all you want be is a good mom and a good person
that’s the extent of your life’s purpose-
now that we know who we are
our next step is to plan the future we want-
we’ll keep on thriving girl-you were the go getter and determined woman in me
Even among one of my greatest depressions
You still got up and followed your passions-
And you laid the foundation-we’ll be okay-I promise
I’ll make you proud of me-
Love patty

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poetry: chicha

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

la abuela Mercedes

today I woke up overwhelmed, exhausted and in a fit of rage
feeling underappreciated in all of my efforts
to move my family forward
not remembering the last time I had a full day of rest
wondering how to continue this existence
of 60 something work weeks,
and of course the guilt over not spending enough time
with my kids-
I was downtrodden with grief and mad at the world
until my abuela’s story made its way to a conversation
with my coworker and a small light of hope dawned on me
if my illiterate and indigenous abuela Mercedes,
alone in the world could make generational wealth
in the early 1900s
despite the racism, the obstacles, and many tragedies faced
I, too. will not only survive but will also thrive
and continue to shine my light
it’s in my bloodline, my ancestry to evolve,
push myself forward despite obstacles, mental illness,
or life’s tragedies-IT’S UP TO ME!
as a Peruvian woman living in America in the 21st century
to make the best of what’s been given to me
which sometimes feels like the sourest of maize
and turn them in the sweetest and tastiest Chicha

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: Libra Season

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

me with one of my Libra queens

Libra season is upon us as summer turns to fall-
a year ago, I was returning from my homeland
recharged and determined
2 years ago, I was angry and using my rage
to fuel my creativity and train for a 5k
and 3 years ago, I was a hot and exhausted
Emotional mess among the madness of COVID
And this Libra season, I’m entering it free from
the chains of matrimony
and every expectation my parents and society
has placed on me
This Libra season, I will honor and pay tribute
to my abuela Mercedes
for the independent and strong woman that she was
and celebrate my friends Melia and Quinn’s birthdays
show them how grateful I am for their existence
This Libra season, I’ll set intentions and manifestations
for the next 6 months for the life I dream of and envision
For myself and my sons
This Libra season I’m determined more than ever
to make miracles and magic happen-
And prove to myself and anyone who ever doubted me
that I’m not just a crazy and savage bitch
but I’m also a magical and intelligent one
who’s constantly evolving

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: smile and pull the trigger on your pistol

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

I used the title of this book to inspire the title of this poem

the evidence of my emotional affair stares back at me-
taunting me with a smirk-
sexy photos exchanged while both of us were legally bonded
to other people
flirty emails sent back and forth to satisfy my craving for attention
I couldn’t get from my husband
It was fun and sexy, wasn’t it?
We were our own Gen X, low rent version of Ashley Madison
seeing how much both of us could get away with-
except that for years, it hurt me and caused me so many trust issues
after learning you had been married the entire time
of our decade long flirtation
and you acted like a psychopath when I confronted you with it-
like my feelings of betrayal weren’t valid,
and you tried to gaslight me into believing I was a crazy bitch
and a few years later, I’m divorced and reflect on our torrid affair
and shame takes a hold of me
as well as regret over that day in the parking lot
of second and charles when I gave
into my yearning for you-
I try to hold compassion for the atrocity of our infidelity
and for the younger version of me who was so selfish
and allowed her ego to guide her
And allowed herself to continue her pseudo friendship
With you-
allowing you to use me for emotional labor
while you slept next to your wife and lied to her and me
I’ve tried for years to find forgiveness for you
even empathy, tried to not always see you as villain
in my story
But forgiveness, compassion, and empathy for you
Evades me
And I’ve come to the conclusion-
You’ll always be the most toxic story in my life-
One of the three things in my life I’ll forever regret
the one who should have left my life
once I made vows to my husband
but instead you stood there selfishly
pushing your lust driven agenda on me-
not respecting my marriage or yours
one of the three people in my life
I’ll never forgive
for the impact of trauma
You made on me

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poetry: I’ll be okay

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

selfie right after my divorce

I know I’ll be okay, I know I’ll be fine
I’m the queen of resilience, coming back triumphantly
After each tragedy
but right now, I need to honor the heaviness of grief
that resides within me
Acknowledge that for a while, my kids may view me
as a villain for breaking up their family
for making them products of broken home
I gotta feel this residual anger and resentment
Directed at myself and my ex
for not being able to make our marriage work
At least I can say it wasn’t me who gave up easily
I was the one who gave my all and best efforts
to make it work
but one day, I had to accept it for what it was
a marriage damaged beyond repair
And no amount of meds, therapy, acceptance
or healing on my part could have saved it-
not when I was always doing 80 percent of the work
and he barely gave me any effort
and while yes, he did care of our kids and of me
he still didn’t help in providing for them,
show initiative to better our family
or even tried to love me
the way I needed to be loved
Instead, he hid behind his fatherhood and age
To distract me
And it wasn’t until the healthiest version of me showed up
and got the courage to put a stop to this facade of a marriage
and stop our codependent story of love
We’ve been modeling for our kids
It’s up to me to break this generational curse of toxic love
or else our kids won’t know or understand
what a healthy and real love story looks like

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: leveling up

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

grief is part of the process

to reach the next level of my life
I need to stand firm in alignment
with my values
I need to be brave and take the necessary steps
for my full autonomy
even if it’s painful, even if I start to question
the process
the end result will be the betterment
for me and my sons, a life full of purpose
a life where I’m no longer attached to anything
and anyone who held me back from reaching
my potential

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: eternal

I wrote this poem in September of 2023.

I’m melting fr fr

summer feels eternal
it’s the sixth of september
and we’re still in 90-degree weather
melting in this heat
it’s a global warning with no sign
of reprieve
it’s a never-ending season
that has me sweating and cursing
constantly
saying FML and calling my friends
during panic attacks in the bathroom at work
it’s my insanity I can’t seem to rein in
all the way, no matter how hard I try
and the frustration of it wears me out
and make me want to throw in the towel
and give up

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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

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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 around 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

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poetry: doomed

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

exactly

Am I doomed to men trying me on
just so they can change their minds-
days, weeks, months, years later
is it some kind of karmic energy in me
I still haven’t found the remedy for?
Perhaps I really need to stop trying
to find hope in love
and stick to what’s working for me
and that’s being alone

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poetry: could we have done more?

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

ai generated art

could we have done more?
could his story have had a different ending?
could we have all been more compassionate-
more open instead of entrenched and absorbed in our own worlds?
all of these questions are asked, days or week or even months
later, wondering-if we carry any blame or responsibility
when someone ends their life with their own two hands

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: dumpster fires

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

best advice ever

all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it doesn’t matter who you are
man, woman or non binary
white, black or brown
with or without a mental health diagnosis
working class or upper class
at one point or another we’ll all be toxic to another person
or to ourselves
some of us admit it and cringe
some of us will ignore it or blame someone else
all of us have been or will be dumpster fires
it’s a rite of passage