Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: No Quiero Quejarme

For the English version of the poem, click on the link below:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/08/04/poetry-i-hate-to-whine/

No quiero quejarme

pero desperdiciaste mi tiempo

no pensé que fueras otro canalla

o que me dejarías con un hueco tan profundo

Es un dolor constante y tremendo

tu cara manipuladora está grabada en mi mente

No quiero quejarme

pero estaba buscando una señal

que tu eras mi alma gemela

Y  no otra persona que me llenaría con odio

Que tu eras el hombre de mis sueños

No otro hombre que rompería mi cordura

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Rejection

I wrote this in 2009 about Brad.

sometimes all you can do is laugh

Rejection
Is an interruption
Of the infatuation
I felt towards you

Rejection
Is a profound sadness
With a river of tears
That flows down my cheeks

Rejection
Is a broken promise
You made
That breaks my heart
Along with the rest of me

Rejection
Is the start of learning
Who you are
Behind the facade
Of infatuation

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: Orgullo

Here is the English Version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/11/30/poetry-pride/

Nunca sabrás del dolor
Que sentí por tu abandono
nunca veras
las lagrimas que llore por ti
nunca descubrirás
como me llenaste con agonía

Porque soy demasiado orgullosa
para admitir que fui una babosa
Por que tengo demasiada dignidad
para estar llena de miseria por tu culpa
Por tengo demasiado respeto
Para convertirme en un desastre

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: Lo Siento Por Ti

Here is the English Version of this poem:

Poetry: So You

Lo siento por ti
piensas que has ganado
pero serás otra mujer usada
crees que te ama
pero es una de sus mentiras
piensas que el es tu príncipe azul
pero tu dignidad parara en el suelo
tienes un canalla y mentiroso a tu lado
que te dejará con un mal sabor en tu boca
no digo esto porque te tengo envidia
es una advertencia
para que no acabes como mi
otra de sus muchas mujeres
que el trate como una muñeca de trapo

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Horizon

I wrote this in 2009 when I was feeling contemplative about life.

Sylvia Plath gets me

Horizon

The horizon stretches out before me
In a limitless manner
I see a future but am unsure
Of which path to walk towards
Everything is a blank slate to me
Undefined by my indecision
The moment I choose
Is the moment I’ll become
Something, anything
Than the nothingness
That I am

The horizon stretches out before me
Offering everything and nothing
Offering this or that
Offering a wasted life
Or a meaningful one

The horizon stretches out before me
And I need to stop
My hesitation
And become a person of actions
And do something, anything
So the horizon is not wasted

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: The Wound

I wrote this in 2008.

I never came back the same

The Wound

It’s a wound that never closes
No matter how many years
are spent trying to close it

To taste the pure heaven that is you
and have it swept
from under me in a sudden swoop
made the everlasting wound

I looked everywhere
for somebody to help me close it
But no matter how hard
they tried, the wound
wouldn’t come close to closing

I finally met someone who lessened the pain
of the wound
with his gentle and understanding nature
But even after 6 years as his patient
the wound remains open

 

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: Otro Niño Confundido

Here is the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=1792

Eras un sorpresa lleno

de atención y afección 

hasta me dejastes rosas en mi tablero

Pensé, por fin, llegó mi príncipe azul 

Pero después de un tiempo

Sentí la distancia entre los dos

ya no tenías tiempo para mi

pronto me darás alguna excusa estúpida

porque me tienes que abandonar

y mi corazón quedará en pedazos

no habrá nada más que decir

me dare cuenta

que tu fuiste el mismo cuento

de otro niño confundido

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Restless

I wrote this poem in 2008. One the BPD traits is feeling restless and oh my, I feel this a lot. Sometimes it’s for a few hours, sometimes it’s for a few days and I write about it.

restlessness lies in my heart

Restlessness lies in 

my mind at 

night and does

not go away

easily. It invades 

my thoughts and

questions me.

Will it ever go

away or will I 

become insane?

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesia: Mentira

Here is the English Version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2021/10/29/poetry-lies/

Tenías puesto tu disfraz de príncipe azul

para que me queda contigo

Fingiste amarme

Fingiste apreciarme

y yo me creí el cuento 

que me estabas contando

Y te amé y tú te volviste mi adicción 

pero todo era una mentira

y ahora estoy llena de remordimientos

Posted on by pattytacuri · 7 Comments

Poetry: The Latina Thing

I wrote this in September of 2019 after I read somewhere about some politician making fun of AOC for doing the “Latina Thing”. It annoyed the fuck out of me.

what I think of the haters

Make fun of our accents-

Make fun of our names-

But y’all never have our rich history

Call us feisty, caliente, spicy

Call us fiery, loud, sexy

But y’all will never have the exotic magic

we carry within ourselves

Try to bully us into silence

Try to put us down 

with racist and ignorant insults

But y’all will never have 

our immigrant work ethic

or ingrained determination

Try to stereotype us-

Try to make us feel less than

Try to kill us-

But y’all never kill our chingona spirit

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poetry: Small

I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.

me with my friends in 2007

I feel small in this enormous and elitist world
it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit
It only seems like a perfect fit
for my younger, blonder, whiter,
and younger counterparts
Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here.
Should I even try ?
When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps
Failure on the steps is what I feel here-
a place where my browner, poorer self
feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

Poetry : Dreams

I wrote this poem in late 2007 when I was depressed about my life. Again, instead of going to therapy, I just wrote a poem about it. Lol.

none of us know what we’re doing

Tainted dreams 

of life is what

I have left.

A career of abstract 

nothingness lies

before me. 

Chaotic and sensitive off springs

I must put before me.

Frigidity and

senility in my

marital bed lie

next to me. 

Is this it? Is this 

what is left 

of my 

foolish childhood dreams.

Scattered dreams

in my past 

become failures

of my present.

Will my soul

ever recuperate

from the cost?

Will I ever be that

hopeful again?