choke cherry

I only cope in my world

Of maladaptive fantasies,

Persevering through

A kaleidoscope of feelings

Provoked by images of you.

A choke cherry infused

With layer upon layer

Of our myriad ambitions

Is withering in the sidewalk cracks,

Buried in the colors

Of a thousand mulberries

Somewhere.

Bitter, aren’t I?

My solstice, my borealis

Covered in, devoured by

Your rarest mouth.

If I were in control

In the ways my passion desires,

You’d be here.

You’d be mine.

But those are claws

To this wasted twine,

And you are just a man

I made sick slowly.

So I leave you as you were

And as am I—

A hurting child

Foraging for reason

On a kindred vine.

- M. Rose