Tags: tell_him_to_be_patient

(no subject)

miles away & tell him to be patient.
tell me, he says.  i want you to reach into every fold of your subconscious and take out all the weeds all the flowers all the everything, and i want you to name them all for me.

what do you want me to say?  she doesn't know.  what is this?  her hands move through the water, feeling for oysters, but there is nothing but heavy black water.  what if there is nothing here?  the galaxies unfold and separate; spin miles away from the spindles they once knew.

she stands before him and holds a tiny blue flower, soggy and wet, limp in her hands.  i'm sorry; this is all there is.  my one lone tangled stem.  his eyes draw her in, his face a blank canvas waiting for a stain.

this is all you've found for me, hm? he says, and she nods, lowering her face.  well then, tell me.  what is it called?

patience.  it is telling you to wait for me; to be patient.

&she tucks the posy into the breast pocket of his jacket.  he smiles softly; he knows.

in due time, perhaps, he says.  maybe then you will have bouquets for me.

tell him to be patient, because he'll only make it worse.

A week had passed and he was still often found lying on his bed, letting his imagination run wild with an overwhelming atmosphere of malice. Looking to seek vengeance toward the two that carelessly betrayed him. Richard's ultimate plan of destroying the incredible affinity they seemed to share (which he desired with her more than anything) was carefully mapped out in his room the very week she replaced his position as a friend and failed to heed anything he offered in an innate inclination over the course of two months. If there was one thing the traitors were naive about, it was his merciless determination to secure his place as her savior from all the wretchedness in her life. They would soon learn to understand the intimidating satisfaction he felt from anything deleterious toward their new friendship, as long as he was responsible for it. Nobody could ever tell him to be patient and simply allow fate to conclude what he wanted dead. Tenacious bastard. As he sat on his bed dialing the numbers to her house phone, Dick quietly murmured to himself, "by this time tomorrow, I will have my way."
31, a little easier to break down

(no subject)

"Tell him to be patient," she was saying. As I was listening I realized I was sitting on the edge of my own doom. The day had not yet fallen. Evening was to be coming in soon -- along with the wanting, and the needing, and the hating, and the trusting... I used to say that to him a million times ("Be patient, child. Time is precious, take it slowly." The contradiction in that I could not forsee in hindsight.) I sit here now, 11:53AM, excessive in my want of his hands all over me. He may as well be taunting me with my patience thrown to the wind.

Tell him to be patient.

He held me, by his hands, his eyes, his stare. Muscular arms encircled my waist, pulling me close, feeling warmth, feeling calm, love, happiness.. feeling. So long. His eyes held mine, blue pools of depth and love, of respect and beauty. I lost my knees, felt weak next to him, with him, but empowered all at once. He mouthed the words, the three words that every girl longs to hear but cannot bear it when she finally does..

I closed my eyes, breaking the connection, while he held me closer, forever closer, just waiting to hear. My mind, screaming, "Tell him to be patient! Not yet!" But my heart melting. I slowly open my eyes, surprised that he's still waiting, why did I make him wait? The blue skies plead to me to feel the same, stretching for eternity, searching my conflicting mind and heart.

I turn away.

And he knows.
And he understands.