Little seeds
That was real
bare on the bathroom floor
These shelves
Dis shelved
Deceit
Dishonest
Destruction
And utter despair
And we’re bare,
vulnerable
little vultures
A seed
A sprout
A leaf
A blossom
We were someone’s thought,
We were planned, my darling
To have been woven together
in this tapestry of life
A needle
A thread
A spool
A canvas
I pass that clock
That damned clock
In the dark hour
the slowest of torture
Outside that window
I watch the passersby below
He takes a piss
from the second story window
I want something
those strangers have
And so we grew
Blossomed, brilliant petals
of daunting, dark
succulent, seductive appeal
Faded quickly
Fell apart
Brittle, dry
Disintegrated to the Earth
but little seeds
did we ever sow
I look at that second story window
And I laugh, sinister
and feel a pain of empathy
for the sap who resides there now,
for I am only
but finally,
a stranger,
a passerby
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