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Poetry: Guilt

I wrote this poem in February of this year inspired by my oldest son.

me and my oldest son in March of this year

the guilt visits me over the mother I should have been
I should have been older, wiser, married
but instead you ended up with an immature teen mom
who read you Stephen King instead of fairy tales
who played you Matchbox Twenty instead of lullabies
who wore you on my hip like a new fashion accessory
who missed the signs early on that you were different
because I was too self absorbed looking for love
but what’s done can’t be undone-
I hope one day you understand
I did the best I could with what I had

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Poetry: Let Go

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

I let go of control over what I can’t change
and allow the source to do what’s best for me
because faith has always shone a light in me
because I’ve never felt alone because of her
she has the power to transform,
she provides the hope for me to go on
as I walk towards self worth, confidence
and empowerment in my heroine’s journey

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Poetry: Halfway through 41

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

Halfway through 41, I am truly alone
no potential love candidates
and sometimes the loneliness threatens to kill my soul-
But I know better than to suffer through another deception
so I process all of my feelings through poetry
Hoping it’s enough to keep the romantic in me
from making another mistake

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poesia: solita y borracha

Here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry: Drunk and Blue

Solita y borracha llorando de nuevo por un hombre
que se burlo de mi dignidad
Solita y borracha, te conoci y me deje llevar
por la química y tu carisma
solita y borracha contigo quería olvidarme al otra
y por algunas horas pudo hacerlo
Solita y borracha prometiste llamarme pero no más
fue una promesa sin substancia
solita y borracha de nuevo estoy pero esta vez con ira con mi misma
por siempre repetir el mismo cuento por no saber valorarme

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

Poetry: Recovery

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

Insecurities and anxiety from my immigrant childhood
Come out to play and my adult self wants to run away
I thought I was healed from this
I hate these triggers—but I still confront them even if I don’t want to
I cry and write about them, reprocess something not quite healed
Am I on the way to my recovery from BPD?