So Much Left

image

Photo Credit: hidlight at deviantart.com

I have so much left
to say to you.
The words bleed
from veins
I never knew I had
and the ache radiates
like earthquakes
under my skin.
My faultlines
are migrating
into unknown waters,
and canyons,
mountains,
nothing but difference
is left.
I’m cracking.
Can you see me shatter?
Can you feel
these burning rivers
at my throat,
the ones brimming
with full cups,
words and letters,
verses that traverse
this broken landscape
in the wake
of my eruption?
Feel these limbs,
these fingers reaching
like webs of regret
to where you are.
Hold what’s left
so that I might
not disappear
into all the things
I haven’t yet said.

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

Glass and Spray Paint

image

Photo Credit: Matt Adamik

I shatter,
glass pieces beneath your feet,
while I watch you tattoo the world with your pain.

Empty eyes stare from shattered frames,
collecting sorrows
as they drift by.

I’ve carved my love all over the world
hoping you’d chance by
and remember why you loved me.

Tattooed walls and pain lying naked in the street.
Can you hear her calling?
Can you see her writing her agony on the walls?

These ghost rooms reach out,
beckon with art we can’t see, words we don’t understand,
crying with voices we can’t hear.

***

Again, I couldn’t make up my mind for Three Line Thursday, so here are all my attempts. I submitted the last one. Which one do you like best?

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

Fate’s Crumbling Grip

Slipping,
slipping, 
like rain 
through shingles, 
and shuddering, 
falling in between the slats, 
pecking at the window glass, 
asking to come in, 
to walk around, 
to stay awhile. 
“Welcome,” I say, 
and suddenly 
lines are undrawn 
and stars become uncrossed 
so that lovers might love 
in spite of the rules written 
in the sky 
on long forgotten nights 
where pieces fit 
instead of faltering before
the misery of fate,

But fate wears the face of
everything we know
and all those we could,
would,
and ever have touched,
so possibility only genuinely
resides where passion lives,
where flames put out the 
bleak cold that exists in
or outside of the glass houses
we all build for our minds
and hearts,
between the spaces that hinder us
from finding our true peace,
and moments that beg us to 
collapse under the sheer pressure
of being alive

The pieces of those faces,
those unforgotton moments
where we blazed
instead of burned out,
they rise,
rise,
climb up
until the air is thin
and perspective is not,
and we can turn outside
the inside thoughts
tethering us,
and instead,
show us the possibility
of predestination.

***

This is a collaborative piece by me and Christopher Rupley. We have done many if these collaborations, but I think this one might be my favorite. Please check out his blog and show him some love.

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

No One Knows

I tell no one about you.
Your name only
crosses my lips in solitude.
No one knows
how you overfill my thoughts
and plunge me
into a confusing combination
of dark and light.
No one sees your face
hovering on the outskirts
of my thoughts,
colliding here with there
in the slightest of movements.
Your hands
are superimposed with his
and I’m afraid to hold on
even though it’s almost like letting go.
You are my secret,
my ever-present
and all-consuming ghost
that no one can see but me.

***

Sometimes, I wish I could talk about this in real life, but there’s no one to trust. Plus, the whole thing makes me look like the miserable (as in awful) person I truly am. Alas, my story seems to want to stay neatly tucked inside this blog. At least all of you seem to want to listen. Thank you. :)

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

Fragmenting Resistance

Lightning speed doesn’t
aptly describe the paths
taken by thoughts
grooming me for a better future,
for a time when apathy
is a slave to my happiness,
and joy is among
the many fruits of my labor

I keep reaching for the one,
to pin it down,
and make it stay
so I can see clearly
the way to satisfaction,
but direction is always so muddled,
obscured by the speed
at which my heart races
toward fulfillment

Maybe there is one
possible future in which
I win,
in which my twisted soul
finds less resistance
from the crude,
fragmented world I find myself
sheathed inside

***

This is a collaborative piece by me and my good friend, Christopher Rupley. Please check out his amazing writing. He’s great with haiku!

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

That Smile

I like it when you’re happy.

That smile,
I see it so rarely.
I remember
how your mouth turns up
at the corners,
the way you look out
of the sides if your eyes,
but it’s changed,
you know,
different somehow
with years.

The way your
eyebrows raise
and smile lines appear
the way the never used to.
I love to see the now smile,
to see your happiness now
instead of hearing your pain,
seeing your anger.

Happiness looks good on you
and I wonder when you’ll write
because you only do
when you’re smiling.

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

Road Trip

image

Photo Credit: blog.navut.com

Sometimes when I’m driving, I pretend I’m on a road trip, in a foreign state or town. I imagine the houses are different and new, like something I’ve never seen. I drive down familiar roads with the windows down, wind swirling my hair into a tornado-mess, and the music up, bass thrumming through my bones. I forget I’m on the way to the grocery store or traveling the road to work. Instead, I am driving to you. My foot is on the gas and the way is open and for a minute, the known becomes a shadow, and I almost believe I’m free.

***

I thought of this post on my drive into town yesterday. Below are two songs that kept me company. It was a mellow mood. Enjoy!

https://youtu.be/QZUvlEhyprM

https://youtu.be/2AzEY6ZqkuE

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

Candy Strings

The windows let you in,
open their wide eyes
and eat you up.
Inside,
you crawl around in circles
like a dog
and dream yourself to sleep
while I yell at you to leave.
Instead of running,
you snore
and take up space in my attic,
in my arms,
and I have enough to carry.
Your heart is heavy
and the steps are uphill
instead of down
while you float above
like a piece of candy
on a string tied to my wrist.
I can’t tell you what to do
but at least you could
ease this burden,
this rock inside my belly
where your vacant words
sit in silence,
leaving me weighted
and ever in the fog.

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter

I Am Not in Love With You

image

Photo Credit: cafepress.com

I’m not in love with you.

Fractured glimpses,
microseconds of knowing
and memories of your laugh.

Five minute conversations
and text message innuendo,
two weeks of perfect days.

No, I am not in love with you.

I am in love with this–
dirty window goodbyes,
blue waves,
and reggae music,
steel drums
and your arms around me.
I’m in love with him.

So, no, I am not in love with you
but only the pieces I remember.

~Patience

Facebook
Twitter