i stretch my fingers (will you grasp them?) (4/23/25)
sometimes i wonder if you simply cannot
see me. i am reaching toward your eyes but
you remain ignorant, chin held high like you are untouchable.
there is an infinity of things i want to tell you, but only
infinitesimal possibilities that i could ever grasp your heart
long enough to express all that you are and all that we could be.
you have always been painfully aware of the destruction
you bring upon others---a fear so deep-rooted in your bones
that you do not see the thorned flowers blooming in your own chest.
i am afraid you will turn into a garden, an amalgamation
of dead petals and never-blooming buds. i would sacrifice
my lungs if only it meant you would breathe in new life.
but still, you abstain from any remedy worth living.
