Dying in Technicolor 

Photo Credit: keep-breathing at deviantart.com

It guts you,
leaves you strewn
across floors,
in technicolor,
your vibrations
in oranges
and reds,
washing thunderclouds
in blue paint,
tearing holes
in whole places,
and leaving pigment
where your bones
should be.

True love kills
while it awakens,
deals pain
in parallel
with pleasure,
and it hurts.
You bleed,
and it hurts,

but the sky,

it’s so beautiful,
and you watch
the yellows
and greens
float by
as you die,
your heartbeat
slowly fading
in your hand.

But its okay,
you think,
because you can
see everything,
feel everything
so very much
in this one second
that it’s okay
to only get this one.





Photo Credit: CristianaLeone at deviantart.com

When I’m with you,
my skin is electricity,
the air is lightning,
your voice a rumble
like thunder
in my veins.

Every nerve ending
with raw need
and the world glows
in carnival colors,
sparks soaring
through invisible space.

I can feel everything,
every piece of this moment.

When I’m with you,
I am bright.
We are bright,
and everything else is dark.

This is the feeling
that makes life beautiful,
worthy of living
because you get to live
in the color
and the gray doesn’t matter.



He Looked at Her

And then he looked at her. 

After the talk had died away, he directed his gaze to her, exploring her face, her soul with his eyes, and she could feel him inside her, his words, his fingers, his mind. Her insides flipped over, and warmth spread out from her bellybutton and down her legs. Her heart hammered nails into her ribs, and she wondered how long she could go without this feeling, this heat in her sex as well as her head, this white-knuckled, heart-breaking tangle of desire to be known, to feel him inside all her dark places, to hear him whisper in her head. He stole each one of her breaths like a dream-catcher with nets and cages, and she thought she might die if he didn’t touch her. She thought she might die anyway, curled up in frozen pieces, because she would have to live without this intensity, this fire that danced in her belly, squirmed through her insides until the world exploded, and all that was left was him.


I was with someone today, and I’m trying to describe how it was, how it made me feel. I want to capture that feeling of desire mixed with familiarity mixed with the unknown, how in one moment, you can feel like someone is seeing your soul, and they don’t turn away. Instead, they look deeper and build a fire inside you with all of their wanting, their insatiable curiosity to know all the bits that make you. I told him I wished I could describe it, that feeling, but I’ve fallen short. At least he’ll never see it.



Lunch Date: A Conversation in My Head 

“I was thinking about something you said.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You asked if we’d ever been just friends, and I’ve been thinking about that.”

“And what have you concluded?”

“I think we’ve always been whatever this is. I mean, when I first met you, I was attracted to you. I remember that.”

“So do I.”

“I remember being around you a lot, and then I remember this.”


“Yes. This thing we have where we say but don’t do, talk but don’t move. This ever-present feeling of anticipation. This more than just friends thing we have. I don’t think we’ve ever been just friends.”

“It took you a long time to realize that.”

“I know.”

“So what now?”

“I’m not sure. I know you’ve left a void and he’s sort of filling it.”

“That’s dangerous, you know?”

“I know.”

“You’re going to do it anyway?”

“Maybe. Probably. It’s not like I can have you.”

“Who said you can’t?”

“You did.”

“Maybe we couldn’t have that, but maybe we can still be something.”

“What? More than friends?”

“Haven’t we always been?”


Tomorrow, I’m having lunch with someone who has always held a place inside me. We are tumultuous and dangerous together, and I thought it would be one way until we spoke today. Now, I’m unsure what to expect. This is my way of releasing my expectations so that I can be open to reality.



I am a terrible person.

I am a terrible person.
I don’t know who I am
or what I want,
and, of course,
we all feel this way,
but I take people down with me.

I don’t know
who I should love,
so I love
too many,
too much,
too quickly.
I think not
of how what I do
will bleed
onto you
or him
or them.

I think only
of the pain
in my heart,
the hot tears
that fire my eyes
and flame down my face
at the thought
of him,
of us,
of them,
of us,

and I’m trapped
in shackles
and it seems as if
I’m chewing through
my own flesh,
my own bone
just to find free.

I’m a terrible,
half of a person.

I’m filled with a void
so deep
that it’s all I am anymore.

I am nothing
but canyon
and open sea–
empty and vast and dangerous.

~ Patience


Embers Remain

Photo Credit: HouaVang at deviantart.com

I can hear your footsteps
next to mine,
see their imprints
in the sand
as sure as my own,
and I watch you
turn this beach moment
into a memory
that will wash over me
like the waves on the shore.

You say only embers remain
but they still do remain,
and can’t embers glow
and ignite the world
if stoked properly?

I can hear you,
and you can feel me
burning inside you,
yet we try
to blow out the flames
with our sad, sea water memories
as replacements
for something
we haven’t even lost.

~ Patience


Like Fiction

Photo Credit: partiallyHere at deviantart.com

I built you
from snapshots
and movie stills,
and I watched you
turn into fiction,
your bones
becoming paper stained
with tears and
words you’ll never read.

You were a novel
crafted til you reached perfection,
that pedestal of hope
that never really existed
outside these fantasy pages.

I turned us into poetry,
into stanzas and verses
while the world read,
their breath held,
their hearts aching.

They devour my agony
on their screens,
beckon me to change you,
to explain us
when all I could ever do
is fabricate
who I wanted you to be,
paint pictures
of who I imagined we were,

while you live
in a reality I’ll never see.

~ Patience



Empty Carts, Revisited

Photo Credit: adrift photography at deviantart.com

It wouldn’t have

worked out anyway.

I tell myself

these lies

in hopes that

my heart will

eventually believe


will eventually

quell the pain

that slowly

circumnavigates my

body and drives

tiny splinters

of missing

underneath my

chewed fingernails.

I cannot breathe

without breathing


I cannot drink

without every

sip tasting of

your memory.

I take my tea

with milk

and a spoonful

of your smile,

and my daily trips

to the market

are marked

by wonderings

about your

daily trip to the market.

This verse

would not be

as gripping,

as glamorously dirty

without those

tiny shards of

your memory

lodged inside

my lungs.

Stop forcing me

to paint these

pages with pining.


and I will survive.


This was originally written on November 13, 2013. I reread a version of it the other day, and decided it needed reworking. Enjoy!




You Said

Photo Credit: AliCat2011 at deviantart.com

Hold me, you said
like I carried magic thread
in my pockets
and could stitch you into new.

Keep me, you said
as if I were able to find
all your cracks
and fill them up until they healed.

Love me, you said,
so I tried.

I held you
and kept you
and loved you
until my own fissures
began to grow,
until I needed fixing
like you did,

So I asked you
to hold me,
to keep me,
to love me 

but there was no one
whole enough
to glue either of us
into one.

~ Patience