Reaching outward
Fingers spread
Like  a wing

The primitive fruit
Just beyond grasp

A worm surfaces
whom which a bird plucks;
For the fruit is
In its reach

I am envious

When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting

I’m bursting open
Cracking open Winter’s
Invisible shell
Sun light reaching in
Me reaching out

Colors seeping back
A water-color absorption
A little further to reach
A little longer to wait

I’m almost in full bloom

Hey, would you like to be friends, or
At least play pretend and
Have discussions that pass lifeless
Like a leaf being pushed by the winds.

You could even keep my shirt at your crib,
So years later you can forget
Whose even it is. Like remembering
Which kid drew this scribble
Hung up on the fridge.

Man, all these frayed connections are
Dimming the lights in this decrepit
Building. One huff and puff
Could turn this structure to rubble dust.

I have no mind to wink or blink
An eye, at one word half *** replies, unless
It reads goodbye. Tired of tap dancing
On the precipice of caring, or
Not caring less.