Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: fighting my inner romantica

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

so true

The romantic in me riots and protests and says
this solitary confinement is bullshit
It’s been over a year since we’ve been intimate
with anyone
or felt a romantic connection
and I try to reason with her
“We’re still healing
and we like to stay emotionally regulated
and healthy”
and she yells, “no it’s time to take all
of our therapy skills out for test drive
and find someone we vibe with’
And I answer, “but we’re not”
And she screams, “stop with your excuses
go find the next muse of our poetry”

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poetry: dancing

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

it be like that sometimes

Trust in love is a concept lost to me
I can’t imagine giving my heart to anyone else
I can’t imagine being vulnerable with anyone else
and it’s insanity to keep allowing myself to trust and love
when all I do is lose, lose, lose
I don’t know how to cope when a love song stops
while I’m still dancing

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poetry: they won’t cross the street

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

ai generated image of angry Peruvian woman

When I fall in love, I lose control, and I lose my power
and it’s painful
because now I have someone to lose
and I don’t deal with loss very well ever
and suddenly I’m all about them, them, them
be understanding, be sweet, be accepting
Be everything
I’ll go to the depths of hell and back for them
but most of the time, they won’t even cross the street for me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: FUCK LOVE

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

fuck love and fuck whatever my bangs were trying to do in this pic

I gave the middle finger to love for a few reasons
I like to stay emotionally regulated
I like to not be on the brink of suicidal ideation
Every other week
I needed to find out who I was
without anyone distracting me
And for once in my life
I needed to make myself a priority

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

I got mace

I’m ready to fight back with all of my BPD rage
Daily writing prompt
What bothers you and why?
View all responses

mace sits next to my insect repellent in my backpack
gone are the days where I could go on a solitary walk
without worrying if someone evil is lurking nearby
gone are the days where I could turn the volume all the way up
in my earbuds and forget about everyone else
and meditate and write in nature
soon I’ll be looking up self defense classes
to cover all of my bases
I’m too important to fall victim to bad luck
and become another statistic in the epidemic of femicide
still I dare anyone to come at me
this time I’m armed with the rage of my ancestors and BPD

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: you’ll never hear from me again

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

it’s water under the bridge

my exes get off easy when they leave
because they never hear from me
and while they become the muse of my poetry
I pretend they exist in a different universe
at times I’ve even pretended some of them were dead
none of this was ever done with ill intent
it’s just the only way I know how to deal
with catastrophic heartbreak
I’d rather close their chapter in my life indefinitely
than deal with some pseudo friendship
and it seems cruel and harsh
In the long run, I’m doing them a favor
Sparing them from me hurting them
in an unexpected explosion of emotions
when I can’t reign my rage in
even in the end, I’m still protecting them
out of respect for the love we once shared

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: como es ella

escribí este poema en Julio del 2022.

Como es ella, la que escogiste, la que quieres
la que ocupa mi sitio en tu corazón
¿le llamas princesa también?
¿Le llamas el amor de tu vida?
Le llamas angel?
Ojala que ella pueda apreciarte y pueda ser la mujer sumisa
que tu deseas porque tu mereces alguien que te traiga calma
y no una mujer caótica como yo

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: señor

escribí este poema en julio del 2022.

verad

Cuando me respondiste en una forma desdeñosamente
Casi me morí
Casi perdí la esperanza y la fe
Pensé que me merecía como me trataste-
pense que fui una estupida por gastar mi tiempo contigo
pero después de un tiempo me di cuenta
que tu tambien tenías tus inseguridades
es verdad que yo tenía mis problemas
Pero usted señor también tenía las suyas

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: trauma anniversary

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

“and I thanked God to touch the flame”- Conan Gray

I’m trying my best to find gratitude for this trauma anniversary
trying to let go of that catastrophic day
trying to quell the anger, rage, and grief, my body kept score of
it’s going to be a day of triggers and emotional dysregulation
it’s going to be a day where traumatic memories take up space in my mind
and body
the best I can do it try to take comfort that every year it gets easier
And some day it will be unimportant
that someday I’ll find a way to write about this day without breaking down
that someday I’ll forget that this day meant anything
but today I’m acknowledging one of the worst days of my life
honoring the rollercoaster of emotions that still comes up
and make me want to vomit
and find compassion for myself and the person
who drove me from the edge of my sanity

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: Modern Day Marie Antoniette

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

and sometimes those meltdowns include angry poems like this one…lol

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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poesía: fuego

escribí este poema en Julio del 2022.

soy fuego

Demacrada y desconsolada estuve después de tu partida
No encontraba esperanza o fe aunque el sol
Brillaba por mi ventana
No encontraba paz o tranquilidad
Aunque estaba en terapia y tenía una vida llena
pero poco a poco, hora por hora
me levante aunque no quería
porque dios prendio una pequeña llama de ira
dentro de mi que se volvió en un fuego de furia
para poder sobrevivir él duel0 dentro de mi
que me quería matar

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