the breathes we hold, hostage
that poisons the lungs, with bitter
reasoning and idea.
Pin-pointed pressure sleeps
in the cracks of every
chemistry book,
every paper scarred with even As.
Ready for the sweet air that gives taste to life,
coincidentally tasting like popsicles
and leaving sticky films on soft skin.
Strumming warm guitars to hot
fireflies, lightning bugs that
are gold to them, to once me.
They didn't mind the jars, I know and
We are once them too.
Ready for warm toes, free toes
no sock toes, and long talks
at night when sleep is far.
And I know,
that soon when the green
dampens the bark, like
Pepper on deviled eggs,
I too will be happy.
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