Speak with an open heart you may,
Announcing to the world one day:
“Night turns to daylight now, in May,
Creating songs, I will portray
The words which will not know decay.”
Unknown to you, poems obey
And you reach peaceful, hidden bays,
Reality is far away.
You’ve met with your self-created fate.
– Patricia
Look at you!… You’re here again.
Crying yourself to sleep once more…
You’ve let yourself trust yet again
And ended up hurting alone…
Manipulated, misunderstood,
Taken for granted, not enough…
Something you’ve always, always been,
Yet dared to think the change would last…
You’ve lost your skill, you’re insecure
And you’ll never be your best self.
Huh… And you thought you could escape
Your fears and nightmares… Think again.
You can’t trust others, haven’t you learned?
Just close up and don’t let them in.
‘Cause every time you’ve opened up,
You were torn apart by their indifference.
Always the one to first say “Hi,”
The only one making an effort,
And in the end, they walk past you,
Acting like you were never there.
It’s fine, ‘cause I’ve been there before
And it’s my fault, what can I say?
I’ll just trust less and less from now on.
They’ll judge me either way. Alone.
– Patricia
Careful how you speak to me
Or I might run away again.
Words carry meaning, you see,
And I listen to the music of your soul.
Read me like an open book you may, but
Deep down, I always hide myself.
In the darkness of my night I bathe…
Careful—or you’ll only get to see the side of me
Everyone else but few will always think is the real me.
– Patricia
Silky moonlight lights my bedroom,
Bathing me in promises.
I hear stories that I’d once known
Once again—I stand still and
Let the stillness of the night in.
Quiet my heart cherishes.
Nothing moves. My fingers linger
On the cold, white windowsill,
As I look up at the night sky,
Breathing in the summer air,
Listening to the waves crashing
Against rocks. All so surreal.
In this moment, I am happy,
I can feel the Universe,
I see starlight, stardust, magic,
Falling stars and galaxies.
Time slows down. And, in the distance,
I hear whispers: “Moonchild, come…!”
– Patricia
Don’t look past my thick, dark curtains.
Everything is fine and well.
Promise. You don’t need to worry.
Reassurance. Burden. Well…
Every day’s a roller coaster,
Seemingly endless in highs,
Seemingly endless in lows and
I always end up down here.
Oh, don’t worry, I’m just tired…
Nothing new. Do carry on.
– Patricia
I hug you tightly one more time.
I know this means farewell for us.
You smile and laugh ‘cause you don’t know,
But I do—and it hurts so much.
I hug you tightly, hold you close
And laugh with you—as usual,
But when you’ll let me go, I know
That we will never be the same.
And you don’t know, you’re innocent,
So young—this kind of pain is far away.
I’m only learning of it now,
So, you are safe for years to come.
But I’ve grown up and all has changed,
I’m now starting to understand
All those who came before me and
Their fears, their sorrows and their loss.
I count the seconds. Vision—blurred.
I appreciate this so, so much.
You are so dear to me!… It hurts…
To know that this is our goodbye…
I let you go… You turn to leave…
I wave at you and smile… until…
You turn around and walk away,
Not looking back… And I break d
Letsmeetagainanotheruniverseo
Letsmeetagainanotheruniversew
Letsmeetagainanotheruniversen
Letsmeetagainanotheruniversein tears…
– Patricia
Spring, summer, autumn, winter.
They all come and they all go
And I wait here in the shadows,
Wondering when I’ll get home.
They all pass me by but never
Truly look inside to see
If the smile shown in my window
Has any trace of sincerity.
Passers-by and, sadly, strangers:
That’s what they are all to me.
They can hold my hand but never
Can they give me warmth to feel.
So, spring comes and so does summer,
Autumn, winter—all the same.
And I wait here in the shadows,
Wondering where they all went…
– Patricia
Raindrops falling on my shoulder—
An enchanted touch I feel.
In the distance, I hear thunder.
Nothing else can reach me here.
Dancing barefoot on the pavement,
Resurrected to be free,
Once again embracing coldness,
Pouring rain covers my being.
Silence and serenity…
– Patricia
Seeking her freedom from He who
Captured and tied her with His strings,
Invoking true love—such a myth,
She wants to cut ties and to bloom.
So, she decides to free herself,
One pair of scissors is her sword.
Ridding herself of what he means,
She now remembers who she is.
– Patricia
Strings. Pulling her which way He wants,
She is His puppet on a string.
She breathes only when He’s around,
For He’s her Master—that’s the thing.
He gave her colour, shape, and life,
She dances to His music. She
Is just a piece of wood otherwise,
Lifeless—awaiting to be pulled.
The strings He made cut deep, deep wounds,
Leaving their mark on her, so that
She always knows she cannot choose
To free herself. He owns her. Scars.
She’s there to please Him, otherwise
She’s put away in her own box,
The cage she only knows to despise,
Awaiting His life-giving touch.
He gave her meaning, gave her life,
Yet she has never learned to breathe,
She suffocates under His touch,
She is alive, yet hasn’t lived.
She rots away inside her box,
Not daring to leave it behind,
For she can’t move, her many scars
Remind her who keeps her alive.
Until one day, when she decides
That death is better than that hell.
She grabs the scissors, cuts the strings
And then bids everything farewell.
She waits for darkness to arrive,
The clock is ticking. Nothing comes.
The pain of a thousand sharp knives
She had imagined is nowhere near.
Doubting that she is truly free,
She slowly moves her hands and legs
And they obey her thoughts right then,
She doesn’t have to wait or beg.
She slowly stands up and falls down,
Losing her balance. One more time.
She stumbles, falls, gets up again
And learns to walk all by herself.
She slowly leaves her cage behind,
Tripping and stumbling, falling down,
But she’s determined: she won’t stay,
She’ll live to see another dawn.
As time goes by, she learns to run,
To jump, to spin, to sprint, to dance.
She starts to wonder how she could
Believe that he’d given her strength.
Painting her colours how she likes,
She is her own. And no one else
Can ever tell her otherwise.
She knows her truth. She loves herself.
– Patricia
