Patience Darling

You’re not naive, just wilfully innocent-
not insincere, but insecure
So don’t get this wrong:

I like that you’ve got teeth.
I like that you’ve got claws.
I love that you’ve got this special talent
for making
men
                                   yours

But please, if we’re ‘friends’ now
Just level with me, OK?
Not patience darling-
two weeks
two boyfriends and
two dates
too late.

Is that too much to ask?
Just level with me. ‘K?

I’m hurt.
I like the pain, sure, but I hurt. So be gentle.
‘Cos if you keep this nonsense up, I really could go mental.
… but before then I’ll leave, by sea, and I’ll be glad,
And I’ll do it with the little pleasure that it
makes
you
sad.

Having left, and with the north wind at my back
I’ll be glad because you’ll miss me.
Memories smart, amidst those regrets, of that
Gods why did you conspire again?
Why? Tell me, why, could she not just bloody kiss me?

I’ll be sad because it shouldn’t have been
Not this way- Not Like this-
and because I never wanted to hurt you
Not even make you miss…
me. And then, of course, you will.
But only too late. (You dill.)

So, it is too late.
At least for now. So.
Of course you’ll go.
You’ll run, Again.
Hang up with a patience darling
and no right of reply.
No no no. It’s far too late for anything else.
After all this. That birthday gift of him and–
this

The North wind is at my back
I’m glad because now we both know you never really wanted ‘friends’
I had that last lamented blast with DJ Miss Jazzy M. from Byron now Pearl Key,
and I can still fly.
To Melbourne or. to. Sydney.
Fly back Berlin- or back Perth-
Or Better yet– make good on that death wishing curse.
The recruiting office is somewhere here-about,
with an officer attending…
For a farewell to all this fucking insincere pretending.

Lieutenant Griffin, that has a ring. And yours. 

You could form the jewel of that
last lamented
big fat fatherless, fuck you, farewell–
To You. To them. To him.
and
To all the people
that weren’t there,
or were. then weren’t.
or weren’t enough.
Or just left.
like you.
whilst act-u-ally loved.
You could be that jewel.
Could have that
But wont.

You’re not the first. My love.
or the most.
and I truly owe you more,
but you were the last to kick this lovely kid,
in his smiling teeth,
                              mon amour.

It’s a moot point now, but I guess I’ll always wonder,
If you ever leveled with me, through this, my hapless blunder
You tried. You did. (And you think you always do.)
But never clear.
Just waves
waves
waves of your so sensitive hesitating so so near…
To your smiling…
to your picking at my flowers on that beloved rings return…

That. Those. This.
That and that and that

and the half asleep ear-licked breathless morning’s “more….”
I listen to all the things in your heart that you anxiously ignore.
And My heart screams: For Christ’s Sake Stop.
Stop!
Stop pretending!
and saying patience darling
(said once just once and my desperate heart needs mending)
Stop! saying! once again!
that you’re calling
to tell me
that
you’re maybe
not
or maybe will
might
maybe
going to be
maybe
perhaps
around later today…
Probably.
(if you finish shopping. Or if not then later this week)
(which you didn’t because I wrote you this poem)

And then, again, to top it all bloody off, a Patience Darling.

You’re wonderful you say, Sweetheart, and mean it,
for a book I got you that he’d never see you see.

Fuck! What did I do wrong? Actually Love you.
Yeah I know.

  You’re meant to withhold and lie. Like he.
                                I see.
                                           and
                                                       I wont.

So, all this said, Pretend. Pretend more.
Pretend. Forget. Forget… Ignore.
Forget.
Swim like a fish in your ocean of regret.
Pretend you are both naive, and innocent.

Again. You’re not, but again, again… Pretend.
Hurt yourself too. Pretend you don’t care and run.
Faster. Go!

It hurt me when you played me for a fool
by playing the fool,
my most loved Lollipop.

(c) Monday November 20th, 2011 by Benjamin George Griffin

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