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poetry: my working class cursed life

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

facts

I want to be dripping in velvet and have the problems of the rich
like finding a new pool man
because the last one got sick of my condescending and pompous ways
or cry because I’m bored and can’t figure out how to fill up my day
in a way that keeps me entertained
but instead I’m stuck in my working class cursed life
where my joints and bones ache in chronic pain
from constantly over working
where I’m constantly fighting to make ends meet
without losing my sanity
And constantly questioning my existence because of my suffering

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I still want to keep him

I was enchanted to to meet you-Taylor Swift
Daily writing prompt
What’s your definition of romantic?
View all responses

I wrote this poem about someone I haven’t met yet.

honest and real intimacy comes with the passage of time
it comes with stupid and terrible fights
Where love survives
it comes with health scares
and encouragement as each person evolves
honest and real intimacy is not about consummated desire
that happens between the sheets
it’s not about butterflies and daydreams
it’s about saying
“Goddamn, this man is an oblivious and sometimes an
arrogant asshole
but I still want to keep him”

2/26/2024

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: ella

escribí este poema en junio del 2022.

aqui estoy

ella es original con su forma de hablar, su forma de ser, su forma de escribir
ella es la única que me trae paz y alegría con su esencia especial
amarla me siento como un sueño celestial del cual nunca quiero despertar
si no fuera por ella mi vida sería incompleta

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poetry: heroine

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

me about to pop this balloon of my self limiting beliefs

As I let go of my self limiting beliefs,
I grieve the woman I used to be
so insecure and unsure of herself
so hesitant to take control and power
Overthinking and catastrophizing constantly
it held me back from living the life of my dreams-
Jealousy and envy filled me up
Scrolling the professional and personal successes
of others on social media
Thinking, “that could have been me”
and giving too much importance to the opinions of others
wondering constantly-
“are they judging me?”
It was a toxic story I told myself since the age of 16
and it continued on and on until one day in my middle age
I exploded and decided to fight my inner critic
and challenge everything I thought was wrong with me
slowly, I learned to turn my story around
Slowly, I went from victim to heroine

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poesía: el problema

escribí este poema en junio de 2022.

verdad

Te dije que no estaba preparada
pero no me quisistes escuchar
Y insististe, insististe que yo era la única para ti
que tu me amabas
nunca me preguntastes sobre mi comodidad
nunca me preguntaste si estaba bien
mandarme piropos y fotos sensuales
Y cuando te pedí respecto a mi persona
me acusaste de ser otra loca más

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poetry: not a quitter

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

me on June 26 outside the courthouse after I filed for divorce-proud I was able to follow this process through

my fingers tingle and almost grew numb
as I gripped the wire
and the tightrope shook
I wanted to give up
it would have been so easy
but something in me didn’t allow me to
terrified I took the slowest step forward
radically accepting in that moment
I will never be a quitter

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poesía: mi libertad

escribí este poema en junio del 2022.

Después de ti, llego mi libertad
porque me liberé de mi propio juzgamiento
porque me libere de pensar que solo podía
encontrar el amor en los brazos de un hombre
porque me libere de ser una princesa sumisa
que daria todo por tenerte a ti
y ahora que tengo mi libertad
por fin tengo mi felicidad

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poetry: fast forward

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

so pretty but so unhinged and insecure

I want to fast forward to the version of me
who’s not always in her head
who’s not struggling to regulate her emotions
who’s not so fucking jaded and negative
when it comes to love
who’s not terrified of change
who doesn’t take things personally
I know, I know
I shouldn’t wish to be anyone else
and fully live and enjoy this version of myself
but lately, I’m having a hard time moving on
to the next level of my life
everything feels so comfortable
everything feels so peaceful
I’m scared to make any waves and return to chaos
even if I know it’s necessary to get to YOU
the future version of me who embraces change
with courage and bravery
Only this version of can dream of

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poetry: so long, Belgium

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

write that story

Once again I’m thrown off the pedestal for standing up  for myself
for wanting respect
I’m accused of being a stranger and crazy
My response is :
I did warn you, I did tell you
I have no space in my life for you, I was never looking for romance
I never asked for your love, and now i’m the villain
and you’re another victim
a victim who  love bombed me over and over again
a victim who harassed me with unsolicited dick videos and pics
who never asked for my consent and forced himself into my world
Sorry for not being the girl of your dreams
but I’m also sorry for any ounce of my energy I was pressured to invest in you
maybe now you’ll leave me alone
and maybe even one day, you’ll learn to ask for consent
and perhaps even learn to treat women with respect

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poetry: waiting

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

“back when I was living for the hope of it all”-Taylor Swift

I’m a poet, I’m a writer but when it comes to expressing the romantic in me
I have the hardest time
I’m great at expressing my anger, my disappointment, my shame
but when it comes to love, I shy away and put my guard up
it’s a mix of trauma and cognitive distortions I’ve held within me
since the age of 16
self limiting beliefs that no man has ever loved or respected me
and failing at all of my love stories no matter
how hard I tried to succeed, no matter how much I accommodated
or changed for my partner, he leaves me
and I’m left flabbergasted, devastated, traumatized
so embedded and attached to my past tragedies
I’m apprehensive and hesitant when it comes to trying on someone new.
when to comes to pursuing anything more than friendship
it leaves me in the land of “I don’t know how to fucking do this again
without it breaking me”
and so I sit still, waiting for my crush to say something, do something
to restart my heart once again

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poetry: stain

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

I’ll leave an emotional stain on your life that will be hard to get rid of
You’ll curse the day I was born
You’ll regret the day you ever meet me
because I demand respect, because I’ll never be your safe place
because I’ll say “no” to being relegated to the role of mistress
and you’ll accuse me of being crazy and narcissist
just because I wanted to be treated with dignity
just because I want to be seen as more than another girl to pass the time with

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: flutter

I wrote this poem in June of 2023.

“but on a wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again”- Taylor Swift

I avoid the flutter of butterflies in my stomach at all costs
I don’t want to get lost and consumed by love
Some people call this avoidance cowardice,
Some people call this a trauma response
I call it keeping my sanity intact
and being more safe than sorry

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poetry: harassment

I wrote this poem in June of 2022.

once my boundaries are crossed, I CUT YOU OUT LIKE TAGS ON MY CLOTHING (like the great Conan Gray said)

it’s not romance, it’s harassment
placing me on your dream girl altar
and telling me about your boner
Even after I  told you no
But then you still threw me your delusional love
and when I was honest right way
and I told you “I’m sorry but no”
somehow now I’m a crazy bitch,
a stranger
who’s letting her mental illness talk for her
after calling out your misogynistic behavior
All I said was no to you and the insults come on cue
I warned you, didn’t I and now foul, you cry
I told you I wasn’t ready for what you had to offer
but you kept playing the part of my great admirer
and maybe I’m fucked up in the head
but your fantasies I needed to behead
I needed to keep myself safe from men like you
who try to bully me into loving them
into giving in because your endless attention
and compliments
haven’t you read my story?
I’m not no longer a woman who bends and bends
to man’s thirst for me