Reality. Time plays with me because I don't have patience.

as I slammed the door behind me, you began to drive away- "You promised yourself 30 seconds of courage." my brain whispered to my heart.

I froze for what felt like forever, but could not have been longer than a fraction of a second before I sprinted out the door yelling, "Wait!" as your yellow car came halting to a stop, "Just once more," I thought, as my heart began to drop-

"Here is my 30 seconds," I said. "Love is patient." 1 second passed on the clock. "Love is kind." 2 to follow what's true. "Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude." I whispered, 3 seconds more- out the door. "It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged." I recited quietly, realizing my courage was fading as tears streamed down my face violently. "It does not rejoice in injustice, but rather it rejoices when the truth wins."

His eyes began to water as I recited these words we had held onto once more, and louder for good measure, not realizing before how much more it meant then than before, " Love never gives up. Love never loses faith. Love is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Love never fails..." I finished, realizing my thirty seconds was up, as I began to fall to the floor-I finished off with silent tears as he held me tightly in his arms and I whispered into his ear, "Three things will last forever: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love." 30 seconds- up.

What happened after, I am not sure of. I only know that "when I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away such childish things." I now hold onto the patience I am called to have, hoping and praying for an answer he may never be able to give.

Love is patient. I think as I count slowly to ten, wiping away the heartbreak and pain of a lost romance.

Love is kind. I recite as I remember the way he softly loved me that cool night in the field.

You drove away that day confused and crying, though I am not sure why, since you called it all off. All I know is that I carry those words around with me whenever I think of you- love is patient and kind. I must be these things, in order to love correctly- in order to show His love correctly.

I'm still waiting, patiently, and praying deliberately, for you to stay- for you to just give us *one more chance.

She had a patience,
that no one understood.
She could wait a million years,
just to prove her love.

But no one gave her the option.
No one wanted to wait.
No one wanted patience.
And she just wanted to make everyone happy.

On her quest to make everyone happy,
she lost herself.
She forgot how to smile.
Sometimes she even forgot to breathe.

She was willing to show her love,
but no one was willing to love her back.
At least not the way she loved them.
No one could love like she did.

But she was broken now,
and everyone kept stepping on her shattered pieces.
She was willing to wait on anyone,
but no one would wait for her.

The wringer is no place for a damaged shirt to be.
It may be torn or ripped in its most fragile state.
It may not come back to you the same as it did when it entered, losing a part of what it was.
But you have no choice,
because it's the only shirt you have
and you need it today.
You need it everyday.
But every time you put your shirt through the wringer, you're risking the loss.
Be patient.
Be gentle.
your old shirt.
It's all you have.
If you loose it then what?
Set it out to dry and
let it be.

I miss the warm tethered entanglement
Of white hot invading veins
And boiling blood slithering
Innocent lust for rage
Driven by underdeveloped
Over stimulated blessings of adolescence.

Age hardens the stone of flesh
Once fluid magma erupting
From volcanoes of mole hills
Turned mountains by the quick tempered.
Spitfire tongue incinerating old walkways
Patience and time cool the ferocity
Burning rivers now gentle streams
Chisling rough roads, eroding paths.

Ancient doors reopened
Ready for the next adventure to take place.