You are
A soft blue shirt on a passing stranger
Soaked by wayward droplets of rain;
The silvery lake water
Rippling and lapping at the rocky shoreline;
The roar of a jet-engine
bound for distant dark places;
The knit grey material of my best jumper
sheltering my skin from harsh winter air;
The pining that comes so naturally to me
radiating from every pore of my being.

I am
Bruises on the knees of a lost child
Ever-present, worrisome ink-blots of pain;
Rocks skipped by young lovers
Lost, forgotten, and replaced.
The glow of the call button above seats in a plane
Belittling all those who respond;
The frayed sleeves of an abandoned jumper in Goodwill
Irreparably destroyed by whomever I have trusted;
Out of sight, out of mind
No object of your affection.

I ask you
*"If I watch you, will you boil?"