what i wanted to say 2014

i wanted to tell you
what i don’t think is fair:

that when i grasped for delicacy
it wasn’t there. but instead,
cursed and tricked again under an
illusory glare, reality stares back–
hollow and unsatisfying

do you even care?

in the morning, i watched you bag
a lunch of leftovers upon inspection,
a dimpled glass bottle of orangina
that you turned over in your hands
before gently, so gently, placing
with the rest,

and i wonder if i was being turned
over in your hands, and if you would be
so gentle with me.



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