the house of st. patience

squeats:

little dark girl with 
kind eyes 
when it comes time to 
use the knife 
I won’t flinch and 
I won’t blame 
you, 
as I drive along the shore alone 
as the palms wave, 
the ugly heavy palms, 
as the living does not arrive 
as the dead do not leave, 
I won’t blame you, 
instead 
I will remember the kisses 
our lips raw with love 
and how you gave me 
everything you had 
and how I 
offered you what was left of 
me, 
and I will remember your small room 
the feel of you 
the light in the window 
your records 
your books 
our morning coffee 
our noons our nights 
our bodies spilled together 
sleeping 
the tiny flowing currents 
immediate and forever 
your leg my leg 
your arm my arm 
your smile and the warmth 
of you 
who made me laugh 
again. 
little dark girl with kind eyes 
you have no 
knife. the knife is 
mine and I won’t use it 
yet. 

- charles bukowski