Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: mirror

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

forgive yourself always

I want to be just like you, so confident, so carefree
you never allow responsibility guilt you or bring you down
So I  mirrored and mirrored you leaving my old self behind
wanting to free myself from the chains off my husband and kids
I wanna be fun, I wanna be sexy
let me fuck whoever I want
and I try but it never makes me happy
it was like jumping continuously on a trampoline of self destruction
sabotaging my chances at happiness, at success
at true self awareness
and one day the trampoline broke along with me
and I picked up my broken pieces
Dismissed the distractions and my need for validation
and I learned not to mirror you or anyone else
I finally found comfort and love in my own skin

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: well,okay then

I wrote this poem in November of 2024.

I’m so dramatic

when someone blocks me, I wonder what was the last straw
was is some irreverent post I posted
some salty poem on my blog that offended them
something stupid I said
most of the time I simply let it go and understand
I’m not for everyone but when it’s someone
I considered a friend, I’m stumped
because I thought friends were supposed to talk
things out when conflict occurs
I thought friends were supposed to give each other
Space when they screw up
But I guess in this instance, I must have done something
so unforgivable, so horrible, I didn’t deserve a warning
Before being blocked
And now there’s nothing I can do
I have to accept this was just a season of friendship
and move on
I’ll never know what I did wrong
and he’ll never know how he wrecked me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: pink bow

I wrote this poem in November of 2024.

I was so angry

A giant pink bow comes apart and disintegrates
and my female ancestors and all of the women
on my timeline cry
tears of rage, tears of grief
we know it’s the beginning of the end
on this gloomy november day
Soon we’ll be relegated to second class citizens
soon some of us will immigrate to other countries
so we don’t end up like handmaidens

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: obsessed

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

let me heal in hell

I wish I could forgive everyone who did me harm-
but something in me won’t allow me too
maybe it’s unprocessed trauma that still wants to speak-
about every single atrocity I’ve experienced
at the hands of those who said
they care for me and love me
I really wish I was better than this-
constantly holding onto these old grudges
but something in me still needs to heal
so I can stop obsessing about revenge

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: close to recovery

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

part of my recovery process

outgrowing old patterns is like I’m shedding my skin
And new healthy skin is replacing it
at times I want to scream and feel like I’m dying
and other times I’m fine
Am I finally close to recovery from BPD?

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: empowerment

I wrote this poem in November of 2024.

me on some days

empowerment is sold as a way to heal ourselves
as a way to feel better
it’s commodified and made into a product to be consumed
in books, in self help guru from the gram
but really, it should have been something
we were taught from birth
not something we are trying to attain in our middle age

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: waltz

I wrote this poem in November of 2022.

me and my future bae

breathing out the past, inhaling the future
I fall into emotional stability and it’s uncomfortable
I didn’t understand or know how to live a life without chaos
because for most of my life
I danced in the fire of chaos-wildly swinging everywhere
Discordant and without direction
And now I found rhythm along with direction

Posted on by pattytacuri

cherry chapstick

Daily writing prompt
When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?
View all responses

With cherry chapstick, I felt like a woman
I felt like a sexy vixen from the telenovelas
even though I was only 9-
and while everyone around me still treated me
like a little girl-
after applying my cherry chapstick
something awakened inside of me
Was it the beginning of puberty?

10/2/22

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: white pendejadas

I wrote this poem in October of 2021.

encouragement
keep going

Trauma after trauma
I have withstood
Standing up right away and pretending
everything was fine
There was no time
for tears or processing
of feelings
That was a luxury for
the white upper class
Therapy-pssst
No time or money for
that either –
It’s gringo concept
Self care – that’s only
for the rich
No, you’re a latina Woman
our people rely on grit
and resilience
There is no time for white pendejadas
No, you’re a latina woman –
you only need the strength
from your ancestors
to survive this life

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: persistence

I wrote this poem in October of 2024.

for real for real…but I finally did learn my lesson after 6 years

you chased me and chased me until your persistence finally paid off
and I landed in your bed
and now you won’t give me the time of day
make lame excuses for not responding to me texts
and I’m like wow
I never meant to live this cliche in my middle age
but everyone tells me I’m being dramatic
and my feelings feel almost invalid
except this time I listen to my intuition
that something about what you’re doing is kind of fucked up
going from 100 to 0 once you finally got what you wanted
or maybe this is on me for thinking you had changed
and this time we could have something lovely,
something different
how embarrassing for me to be still be naive at 43
but I guess this is the part where I thank you
for the lesson, for the experience
and to please don’t reach out to me when you’re lonely
There are apps for what you want,
there are women you can pay to service you
without any strings or emotional baggage

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: finding myself in Autumn

I wrote this poem in October of 2021.

hope in my eyes
me in Autumn of 2021

The rain falls steadily in Autumn
and I remember the 9 days in the summer
When the tears wouldn’t quit raining from my eyes
The eternal emotional pain wouldn’t stop
the lonely nights I couldn’t sleep
the infinite anger and sadness that I felt
the emptiness that wouldn’t
go away
the food I couldn’t eat.
And yet I still woke up
every day with a determination to live
live for my kids
live for my friends
live for myself
even at my worst,
even at my most vulnerable
Somehow, I managed
managed to find strength
managed to find inspiration
and somehow managed to
find my way back to myself
Summer was the season
I died when I was
rejected by the one who
claimed to love me
Autumn is the season I was reborn
and I fell back in love
with myself, forgot him
and fell into the magic
that is me