If the days wont allow us
To see each other,
The memories will,
If my eyes cant see you,
My heart will

Some child of mine
Or one of their children
Has left a cup of dirt
With a sprout 🌱
Now, I am the keeper of the sprout
Which needs a bigger cup
It’s looking unhealthy
Bigger cup acquired
Lots of attention
I dapple water to simulate rain
And even bring it to sit outside in the air and the sun
The sprout is happy
It got left with me

He cowers from his sins
Disgusted by his skin
His flesh that crawls
From shriveled up bones
For his sins he cannot atone
He is alone

This weakness deep within
Another’s patience wears thin
His eyes that wander
He is lost on his own
For his sins he cannot atone
He is alone

Tuesday night and
you've accepted
the proposal, yet
under the chandelier
of mistaken fireflies
you half-smile,

a drawn curtain
that I can read
enough to worry,
to feel
the body
move away.

The rest of the night
is a sharp nerve,
& gray fingers
of a fog slip
down the street,
thin and ashamed.

you told me something's off
what is it? i asked
(you're not him) you wanted to say

i'm sorry i'm not him.

thinking in single digits is easy because i know what it adds up to,
every day is the same shade of grey
but you give me a million different numbers and a brand new set of colors