Photo Credit: SpellboundMisfits at deviantart.com

Why can’t you be ready?

Why did I have to rush?

Why are we locked
in these separate prisons,
scratching at open wounds,
cement floors?

Why am I here
and you are there?

Why do I have
all these feelings
that bury me,
until I am broken
and dead?

Why do these flowers wilt
at my touch
and why do the windows
seems so foggy,
so empty?

Why do I need these things
that need to be burned
instead of nurtured?

Why must I keep going
until I’m lost in deep forests,
torn between want and need,
good and evil?

Why am I so fucking damaged?



The Sargasso Sea


Photo Credit: fiyaasz at deviantart.com

My body no longer feels like mine,
but more so
my mind is adrift in this dark ocean,
this underwater trench
where light vanishes among the pitch.
And it’s change that has broken me,
warped me,
tied me in the chains of a truth
I hardly recognize.

I am the Sargasso Sea,
deep and churning,
bordered by oceans instead of land,
by movement and instability,
pieces of the world in my depths.

I am all of you
and these floating things
instead of
and love
and memory.
I search for something that sticks
and all I find is that I’m empty,
a woman lost in that sea,
that whirlpool,
but never really being


I was inspired tonight by two things. First a quote from Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and then a poem by Ezra Pound. I feel a great change, one that seems to be confirmed by the way the poem made me feel.

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” Mary Shelley





Photo Credit: neslihans at deviantart.com

I know what you’re doing.
You’re making me
crave you,
need you
so I can be whole.
And it’s working.

I’m unsettled.
That’s how it feels.
Not right.

My head feels empty,
my body without direction,
each piece without a home.

I want to scream
for you,
at you,
in defiance of you,
but I can’t.

All I can do is
ache for you,
wait for you,
and it’s fucked
because my mind understands
but my body won’t listen.





Photo Credit: LittleFlair at deviantart.com

I’m in training.
I can feel my will
bending in awkward directions,
my mind kneeling
in front of you.

You want me to crave you,
to deny myself for you,
to punish myself for you.
You want me
to let you consume me,
tear me up from the inside.
You want me
to want you
to devour me.

So your silence is strategic,
a game,
a weapon
to bind me
to your will,
a tool
to manipulate me,
willing or not.

You’re doing this
to torture me.

How is it
that I feel
without your voice
guiding me,
commanding me?

You’ve gone
and I’m sad,
so desperately sad
which doesn’t make sense.
I don’t love you.
I don’t think I ever have.

But I need to please you.
I need to do as you desire,
but you’re gone
and it’s punishment
and I know that.

Your sway has always been
my most challenging obstacle.
I have always done as you desired.

Now here we are.
I am under you again,
right where I’ve always
wanted to be,
kneeling at your feet,
waiting for permission,
waiting for your voice
to pull me out of the chaos.





Photo Credit: C-PRO at deviantart.com

I miss missing you.

I’m so wrapped up
in being his,
I can’t remember
how to be human,
how to be me.

I am three now,
instead of two,
and my walls
are rising
as fast
as they fall.

And I miss missing you.

I miss thinking
of your smile,
your gentle words
and strong hands
urging me,
healing me.

Now, I am his.

I belong to him
in ways
I’ve never belonged
to anyone before,
and I just want
to belong to you.

I want your hands
and your pieces
instead of
his hard lines and rules,
his consequences and confirmations.

I miss missing you
because he has
consumed me,
eaten every part
of my free will.

I am tethered to him
as I’m tethered to you.

It’s just that he uses chains
while you bind me in love,
and it seems like
his will is stronger
than your memory.





Photo Credit: KlarEm at deviantart.com

This is so intense,
how much my life
is affected by you.
Of all the people in the world.


Every moment,
I feel like I’m breaking apart.
I’m breaking apart,
and I don’t understand
what’s happening to me.

I don’t recognize myself,
this new person in the mirror.
You still don’t seem real
but you’re also the most real thing
I have.

And that’s so completely terrifying.

You make me feel
alive and aware
and like I can breathe
yet I ache
and it’s strange
to crave what I used
to hate.

Strange to need something
that seems dark and destructive,
yet I’ve always been
dark and destructive.
Maybe this is who I am.
Maybe it’s what you’re
turning me into.

I don’t know if change
will bring pain or pleasure.
Right now, you bring me both.





Photo Credit: LostOneself at deviantart.com

I am a swarm,
a hive of moments,
needs that buzz
and vibrate
against my skin,
begging to get out.

I’m moving so quickly
and I can’t slow down.
I want the energy,
the vibrance
in your presence,
your ever-hovering
in my mind,

like a swarm,
a hive of
that I can’t breathe
and it’s now I realize
I’m the scarecrow- –

because you are my mind.
You are my brain.

I belong to no one but you.
You are my master.
I am yours.
I always have been.
This is who we are.


I’m a disaster. I’m sure you see that by now.

~ Patience




Photo Credit: Nachan at deviantart.com

Each request
is a shedding of layers,
a quiet submission
burning my insides.
This unquenchable need
to be who you want,
do what you want,
it devours me,
your letters burrowing
beneath my flesh,
digging their claws
into my skin,
holding on
and forcing me
to relinquish.
I crave your voice
in my ear,
the sly smile
on your lips
as you beckon me,
collapse me
into ash.


Yeah. Another poem. I’m freaked out and drunk and scarred. Welcome to my mind.

~ Patience


To Be His


Photo Credit: BlueFish24 at deviantart.com

You are this figment,
this dream,
this memory.
I see you
and don’t see you.
I read your words,
hear your voice,

but the man in front of me,

I’m just not sure
you fit into the box
I’ve made for you,
the one I hammered
into place in my mind.

You are hard and aggressive,
smooth and open–
not like the manipulative screen
you used to yield.

there you are,
with that short shorn hair
and the darkness tracing
the corners of your eyes,
and the box is gone.

It is just you.

This man I thought I knew.
This man who holds me
between his fingers,

his voice how I remember.

And I remember
wanting to be his,
to belong to him
in every way,
and at this moment,
in between nervous laughter
and awkward silence,
I realize that is exactly
where I am.

I belong to him, finally.


It’s weird when you finally see and hear someone you haven’t seen or heard in a long time. Don’t fret, dear readers, I do not speak of my Johnny. He has disappeared and I’m trying to fill the space, as always. At least you should feel refreshed with some new themes in my poetry. Enjoy!

~ Patience




Photo Credit: zenibyfajnie at deviantart.com

I’ve always wanted
to be yours,
to belong to only you.

I fought to find that place
when we were children,
to feel like I could let you have
all of me.

I didn’t see then.
I didn’t understand.
Neither of us did.

We have always
been this way,
and I have always
been yours.

I just never realized it
until now,
until you had
your fingers
on my throat,
your words
in my head.

I belong to you.
I surrender to your will,
for I will always be yours.


I’m not really looking at the prompts anymore. I’m going through something, if you hadn’t noticed.😉 Enjoy!

~ Patience