Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: consequences

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

for real for real….

the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards
everytime I start to believe in love it never works out
Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction
and i try and try again only always to have the same ending
and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me
to endure another love failure
someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind
about me on a whim
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen
notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: when

I wrote this poem in August of 2025.

The last tarot card I pull said everything is working in my favor
and yet here I am knee deep in my depression as my world is full of so many changes
it’s hard for me to keep up with
and I feel like I’m playing emotional parkour at double time. not fully processing one
transition before facing the next
and I don’t remember when’s the last time I’ve been to the gym
it’s to suffice to say, I’ve stopped caring about how much weight I’ve gained
but I should considering I don’t have money for new clothes since I’m as broke
as a college student who buys ramen by the bulk for sustenance on most days
but here my tarot say there are better days to come
and lately I’m impatient and shake my fists at the sky yelling “when”

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: salty

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

I’ve tried to keep my life private but I have a talent for oversharing
Especially when I’m anxious
Especially when I’m drunk and you’ll think it’s charming at first
Until one day I explode and then you’ll say goodbye
And I’ll get super salty, cry, and write

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: TBH

I wrote this poem in August of 2022.

heartbreak brings up raging hello kitty energy…hahaha

My love data tells me I shouldn’t try again because every time
I crash and burn and cause trauma and drama
because every time it ends, I get hateful and want revenge
and While I do appreciate the poetry that comes
after every broken relationship
I don’t think I can withstand the heartbreak and devastation
the next time it ends

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: IHOP

I wrote this poem in August of 2020.

this was the best AI generated Art could do…idk,,lol

I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP
across your apartment complex
As I was eating up my loneliness
with scrambled eggs and coffee
I hoped you couldn’t see remnants
of tears that had fallen before you came
and you sat across from me
and as we awkwardly made conversation
I wondered if you would be the one
to breathe new life into my almost dead existence
I wondered if your kiss would help me
reignite a fire of desire, would remind me
I’m more than a wife and mother
But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe
someone would finally love me

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: this song era

I wrote this poem in July of 2025.

People watching days are over, this Song era is now my reality
no more longing or yearning over what could have been
or what I once upon a time wanted it to be
instead I focus on the genuine and loving connection in front of me
the one who’s not afraid of the creative beast who resides in me
and makes me feel heard and seen
even if sometimes that seems cringe or weird
Especially after I admitted I had watched him while he slept
this time he allows me to him without flinching
when I tell him he’s the new muse of my poetry
and he’s brave enough to share his feelings without shame
and reminds me of all the things he likes about me
the one who feels like my sanctuary to lay my love and poetry in

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: stop

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

don’t judge others for the life you haven’t lived-
not everyone has had the same privileges or self awareness as you
some of us hardly had time to process one trauma
before facing the next one
and unhealthy coping mechanisms were placed
it’s how a lot of us learned to live our lives
with our emotional gloves and armor always ready