Summer Days

We can’t go back.

Of course,
I know this but

the heat of those summer days
where the blue burned our eyes
and the grass,
hot needles to our feet.
The concrete bold
in its desire to burn
yet beckoning anyway.

Those wood-paneled walls
and ancient air conditioner
dying
with every weak gust of cool wind,
but we paid no mind to any of it,

the cool,
the hot.

Because no air escaped
from between our skin,
no breath lost amongst our mouths,

the sharp ecstasy of it all,

the blatant glory
of us
combined
in that hot room aching with desire
to be just
one
moment
more.

~Patience

Gunpowder and Rain

We used to sit on the edges of this life like gunpowder and rain. Sweet smoke and the earth rising in woodsy cascades. We were danger and heat, hot rainforest-showers in deserts toppled by our hurricane-love. You ignited me with your fingers and I emblazoned you onto the world, raindrop-eyes they saw but you never […]

Gunpowder and Rain

Cotton Candy

Cotton candy clouds
pinned to blue-gray skies,
each tied with tiny threads
to the canvas above.

They remind me of waves
from oceans I’ve not touched,
waves of memory I cannot grasp,
and yet I watch them hatch
on the wings of the sun
you’ve already seen set.

I wonder how we can all be
so desperate,
so proud
that we can’t stop
this end-of-the-world gasp
escaping from our lungs,
this death maul
screaming for release,
for relief from being
old and
lonely and
breathing
even though we’re underwater.

The sweet candy-clouds
hover and stretch
but can’t go far enough
to make you mine
or to even make me or anyone whole.

I watch them turn to ash
and wonder if I’m just fading too.

~Patience

In the Wreckage

This road is dark and rife with faults, the cracks spreading clockwise and backwards, mixing time with doubt. You walk alone amongst shards of memory and glimpse your reflection in the wreckage while I bask in overgrown sunlight dotted with decay, and I wonder who’s more broken– the girl who can’t move forward or the […]

In the Wreckage

Islands

I am an island, remote and desolate, pieced together from flotsam and underwater mountains. Alone, separate, I am an island where nothing touches save the sea with its salty lips and acid tongue, and I am unreachable, spotless and distant, vast in my loneliness. I am an island, but so are you. With your righteousness […]

Islands