Seed

a single bloom
red upon stone
afraid to pluck it
in case there are no more
it withers where it grows
instead of spreading seeds
just a momentary thrill
amidst the cracks
out of place
and ill suited
dried up and then forgotten

Abyss

Unable to bridge the gap
between longing and outcome
I lie transfixed
by the ceiling and the way the gray light
leaves smudges in the corners.
Wanting isn't enough
to pull the curtains
let the light in
face the day.
It's not enough
to get out of my own way.
And so the wanting sits
like a parasite to my host
feeding from within
and laying waste to desire
leaving only the burning.