Green Thumb

I savored passion,

reveled in companion,

seized hold of reckless abandon

(and that little conundrum,

in retrospect, was exactly the problem).

To me, this was our canon;

I never longed for only.

 

Only was the festering crack

in the vase that failed to bloom

and finally shattered

to behold the blossom spring

left me beholden to.

 

No; only bore no fruit for me,

no life that I could see

compared to all we were

—that is,

until you offered it to her.

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