Patience is to wait with no certainty of an end

by kuylerquijas

Sitting on my porch, I am eager to finish my cigarette,
Though I only lit it to dislocate my confidence on the couch.
I pat my soft-pack gently but with one intention,
And when it falls out I light it with certainty.
It was supposed to rain all day but I haven’t seen a drop.
The clouds say they’ll do it but I think they fear falling.
The humidity is clinging to my back
As I blow out clouds into the sky.
Misconstrued offerings pull my shirt off.
The rain won’t come today.
Not because I say, but because I feel it.
My thoughts haven’t played in the past this week
And I’m starting to feel a productiveness crawling.
The wind pulls my eyes from the paint I spilled while I was drunk by myself two weeks ago.
It’s a soft wind that reminds me of a child trying to savor the dandelions fleeing from its breath.
The wind is not much but leaves still float off the branches.
My thoughts patiently take steps further away from death.
Suddenly I dropped my cigarette to reveal a burn on my finger.
I undeniably begin to smile and put the filter in the ashtray.

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