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Sep 2019 · 683
Anna Patricia Sep 2019
You break me in two.
Then you tell me that you don't
Want a broken girl.
Aug 2017 · 213
Anna Patricia Aug 2017
It's cute,
I walk with my eyes to the ground,
Apprehension in each step,
Nervousness with him around.

It's cute
When I get lost in all my thoughts.
I cant find the words to say
So I just say that  I cannot.

It's cute
The way I second guess each word;
The way I struggle every day
With the thought of being heard.

It's so **** cute.
When I laugh away my pain.
So does it even matter
That I'm going insane?

It's cute
When my demons come and grab me by the ears
Tear my heart out of its chest
And they always fulfill my fears.

They're cute,
The endless tears on sleepless nights
When the visions surround me
And I've no energy to fight.

It's cute
When reminders of my past
Send me reeling into memories
Of all the pain that I've amassed.

It's cute
When I can't speak out loud for days
When I'm glued down to my bed
In a brokenhearted daze.

I guess it doesn't matter
Because its absolute:
Even if it kills me
My pain will still be cute.
Apr 2016 · 242
Anna Patricia Apr 2016
Pain at your soft hand
One touch and I am broken
Hold me softly still.
Mar 2016 · 476
To J.L.
Anna Patricia Mar 2016
My head spins when you appear.
As it always has.
Back when I loved you, when you were near,
My balance off and sight unclear,
I would hold you close to my heart, so dear
Until you turned my love to fear.

My stomach churns when you arrive.
As it always has.
I used to think that you kept me alive
That without you, I couldn't survive.
But every time I'd start to thrive,
You'd pull me down. And nose dive.

My hands shake when you're nearby.
As they always have.
Like before, when I bought every lie.
Because "our love could never die".
But, of course, I could never satisfy
The man who loved to make me cry.

Still fearful (although you've gone away),
But I'm stronger now.
After suffering through you every day,
Through every single power play.
I finally have the strength to say
One day I'll forget you, but at least for today,
I hate you. And that's okay.
Mar 2016 · 164
Anna Patricia Mar 2016
Act now;
Think later.

Type now;
Think later.

This poem *****
Mar 2016 · 973
Anna Patricia Mar 2016
I am invisible.
When you observe the Earth from space,

I am invisible.
When you look over my country,

I am invisible.
When you scout my town,

I am invisible.
When you pass me on the street,

I am invisible.
When you gaze through my eyes,

I am invisible.
When you speak at me,

I am invisible.
When you hold me,

I am invisible.
When you have me under your sheets,

I am invisible.
When you say you love me,

I am invisible.
Can I exist if

I am invisible?
Should I?
I'm going through a tough time.
Mar 2016 · 638
Anna Patricia Mar 2016
You're toxic.

You're the extra number in H2O2
Seemingly harmless,
But deadly. Combustible.

You're toxic.

You're the thought
That started killing
In the name of God.

You're toxic.

You're Helen of Sparta,
Or Troy, if you will.
Without the supposed beauty or skill.

You're Toxic.

You **** everything you touch.
Flowers suffocate
When they share your air.

You're toxic.
Mar 2016 · 390
Anna Patricia Mar 2016
You hold me at arm's length
Afraid of my gaze
Afraid of my touch
Afraid of my love
Afraid of my leaving.

I hold you at arm's length
Ashamed of myself
Ashamed of my thoughts
Ashamed of my pain
Ashamed of my emotions.

We hold each other at arm's length
Accustomed to the space
Accustomed to the silence
Accustomed to the solitude
Accustomed to the seclusion.

We hold each other at arm's length
At arms length, but we hold each other still.
Sep 2014 · 2.7k
My Pain -Haiku Compilation
Anna Patricia Sep 2014
I went to see her.
The skinny doctor lady.
She tested my blood.

She tested my mind,
While waiting for the blood test.
Severely depressed.

I knew that, of course.
I have known since I was nine.
Just confirmation.

I told her my pain.
That all-over, horrid pain.
Everywhere. Always.

Silent, Invisible Pain.
It makes so much sense.

The blood tests came back.
Her drawn-in eyebrows furrowed.
I'm diabetic.

She looked so worried.
I am nearly anemic.
What else could go wrong?

Dejected, she said
I can't have children. Ever.
I am broken now.

Invisible pain.
Emotional. Physical.
No death to stop it.
This all actually occurred within the span of 1 month in two different visits to the doctor. They needed some time to get all of the blood tests done. I really don't know what to do now.
Sep 2014 · 374
Away for once.
Anna Patricia Sep 2014
The past few weeks,
I've been asking you to go home early.
One more minute, baby.
One more hour.
I'll go home at 1.
2 o'clock, I promise.

Six o'clock comes around,
And I rise with the sun.
And you're stretched like a cat on the floor.

Sharing a tiny couch isn't ideal.
It isn't fun.
It's too warm on one side,
And freezing on the other.
There is no middle ground.

I've spent 24 full hours without you,
Waiting on 24 more.
I hate it.
I want my body to be frigid on one side.
And boiling on the other.

I want you to squish my arm,
And send pain shooting up my spine
With an accidental knee to the back.

I want you to squeeze me
To the point where it's uncomfortable.

I want to be next to you,
To be near you.
As much as possible.
As long as I can.
I want to be yours.
Let me just say that my boyfriend is not abusive. I have fibromyalgia, and need to have a wide range of motion at all times. If I don't, I'm pretty much in pain all night. Sleeping on a narrow couch with my boyfriend can be a pain in the ***, no matter how much I like cuddling. But whenever he isn't there, I just miss him.
Sep 2014 · 515
Dream Diary Day One
Anna Patricia Sep 2014
I had a dream of you last night.
A simple dream but a dream nonetheless.
I dreamt that you held me tight.
Held me in your arms,  against your chest.

I was disgusted.
I was distraught.
Before waking, I mustered a final thought.

I hate you.
Sep 2014 · 346
A little slip.
Anna Patricia Sep 2014
A little slip of my fragile mind
And I don't want to exist.

A little slip of my hand
Leaves blood dripping off of my wrist.

A little slip of my tongue
Lets you know what's going on.

And when you slip your hand in mine
You help me to be strong.
Aug 2014 · 6.7k
My Life in a Haiku
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
I get home from work,
And settle down on the couch.
Food and Netflix time.
Junk food only, please.
Aug 2014 · 548
Keep An Open Mind
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
We sit across a tiny table.
Passing the time by passing our intellect back and forth,
Yet both keeping secrets hidden away.

I can read it on your face, though.
Though you try to hide it,
I can always see right through you.

We are no longer at an impasse,
But you don't want me to know that until you are ready.
All of this is checkered across your face.

I sit in wait for you to make your move,
To reach out and take your queen.
I am always waiting for you,
In this endless game.

Your gaze raises and grasps mine.
You lick the lips of your gaping mouth,
You lean forward and say,
"Oh is it my turn?"

That was the longest game of chess that I have ever played.
Aug 2014 · 739
Battle Scars
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
The difference between my consciousness and subconsciousness is so severe,
So severe I fear I must sever the tie between the two.
Two halves of a whole that is me.

One says, "Be happy! Why not?"
And the other says, "Be happy why? Not!"
I feel the weight of the disagreement and I can't wait for it to stop.

My left hand holds the cake,
As the blade in the right "accidentally" slices my left wrist instead.

This fight within myself has left me battle scarred,
But the battle scars on my wrists and thighs
Are no match for the scars on my heart.
Aug 2014 · 1.1k
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
I am Vesuvius.
Beloved and seemingly sturdy and strong and safe.
People mill around my base,
Planting their food and livelihood in my soil.

People trust my seemingly sturdy and strong and safe appearance,
Not even considering the danger within me,
Until I erupt.

The swirling, boiling magma and the intense pressure form a deadly combination.
Everyone around me, everyone I hold dear is gone.
Everyone who talked and played and worked and lived near me is gone.
Everyone who utilized my resources.
Everyone that trusted me is gone.

It is then that I realize something about myself.
Inside that seemingly sturdy and strong and safe exterior,
I am toxic.
Aug 2014 · 395
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
Just because I do not think
That it is essential to the content of a poem
For an entity to compose one's life story in a matter such as this,
Using terminology that everybody can plainly see was looked up on

Doesn't mean that my writing isn't valid.

I don't write for you unless I explicitly say otherwise.
My poems are my story.
They are my heartbreak,
And my thoughts as the aforementioned heart was breaking.
Now, was the above line 'smarticle' enough?
But enough joking.

My poems are my story.
They are my heartbreak.
They are my short bursts of happiness,
And the bone-crushing fall afterwards.

They are my thoughts,
My weird, creepy, and, I will admit, sometimes slightly ****** dreams.
They are my lifeline.

They are the way that I express my innermost thoughts
That I will never be able to say out loud.

They are my coping mechanism.
They are my shield and my sword all at once.

My poetry is mine.

Don't try to tell me it's wrong.
I get criticized for my poetry not sounding 'smarticle' enough.
Aug 2014 · 265
Into the Headlights
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
Suddenly, I feel myself fighting for air.
Another thing I have to fight for and it doesn't seem fair.
We've been fighting for hours.
I just need a break.
I need you to leave.
You can do better.
You can live better.
You can be better.
Without me.

Fighting for hours and a simple misunderstanding pushes me over the edge,
And I can feel myself falling, struggling for air.
I can feel hands on me.
Helping me up.
Pulling me onto my feet.
But I'm blind to you.
I run to the street, needing to get away from you.

Suddenly, I'm staring into the headlights.
Countless headlights.
I know they're coming closer,
And I don't care.

This isn't the first time I didn't care.
It isn't the second time,
Or the third.
I guess it makes twelve now.
Or thirteen.
I don't even remember.

Although I can't see you, I feel those hands on me.
Those once strong hands,
Made tired and weak from trying to catch me.
I pull harder and harder.
I want to see the beautiful light.
I want to walk towards the light.

Again, I'm falling, falling harder than ever.
I feel my head fall into your palm,
And I know you let my head crush your hand on the cement of the old sidewalk.

And I know you'll always let me crush your hands.
And I know that you'll never let me look into the headlights.
But I would rather crush my body than crush your hands.
Yes, this is very roughly written, but this is more of a story than a poem.
This happened last night. I don't know what to do.
Aug 2014 · 540
Walk Away With My Heart
Anna Patricia Aug 2014
There you are.
Appearing in my mind again.
Your smile, always beautiful.
Your eyes, always shining.
Your voice, always a song.

You must feel welcome here,
Always resting in my head.
Finding your way in whenever I try to change the locks.

Can't you see that every second you come near me,
Every word that you say,
Every single day that I see you,
Every time we lock eyes,
I'm dying inside.

I love you with all my heart,
And the love clutches to my blood
As it flows through the rest of my body.
I love you now with all of my being.
This unrequited love song always playing, always replaying.
Over... And over... And over.

In my head I hear a familiar beat.
I can feel my heart rate speeding up.
And there you are.
Not just in my head.
My stomach drops and I get that feeling.
That roller coaster feeling.

I don't know everything,
But these things I do.
You don't love me.
I love you.
Thats enough for unrequited love.
No Shakespeare needed.

Smile for me one last time.
One last hug.
Some final words.
Then I'm done.
Then these words will once again be tucked back into my memory.
As I see you walk away with my heart once again.

— The End —