You are too busy. I refuse to water this tomato plant if I don’t even know if it will last until spring. Why would I coo kind words at the tomato plant which gush out of your mouth easily. I look at that ugly little shoot of stem with those green leaves soft between my fingers. I wish I could move that tomato pot out of my sight so when I did not have a pause or mindlessy hear the hum of the bees. The plant seeming to always in my vision. I cannot look anywhere without seeing it or thinking of you. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well, my soft gaze and warm green eyes the perfect eye to foster that plant. That softness is my eyes is vunerablilty. Please don’t say kind words to that plant because it gives me the impression you care and that maybe juicy bright tomatoes can grow from that plant.
I should have thrown that plant out when you forced me to pick and make up my mind. You had been hinting at wanting a tomato plant and having a tomato plant with the inscription ‘hannah banana’
I should have thrown out that plant
Now. I look at that plant not daring to touch it and wanting to keep my eyes closed.
I look at my phone hoping you will text me but you don’t. The ping of a bird making me think that you texted me. I look for those birds but birds fly west for the winter.
After all, Christmas is just around the corner maybe you will get your snow. Let it Snow. I’ll let you go. Let it go. Let you go.
I cannot stop the rain that has been pouring down lately from nourishing my tomato. I want to claw it out with my own hands but that means getting dirty. I don’t mind the mess or complication if it did not mean saying goodbye. Setting fire and I don’t have the heart so I don’t think the flame would even light.
It’s raining what happens when it freezes over. It hurts, I am sad and asking for change. What happens when the rain turns cold and it’s snow. That tomato plant won’t last or at least it will hibernate if it survives the winter.
Why do you keep me warm in this winter. Warm not like how my heart skips a beat when I see you and heat spreads Freon the tips of my fingers of the hand you are caressing to my cheeks warm to the touch now.
I should have thrown out that stupid plant. I held onto now the concrete dried and I committed too soon.
I am trying not to remember my days as a survivor living in that lonely island Angela left me at. Trying not to remember the flashes of bare hands ripping apart the boat, I spent years building we spent years building.
Your warmth brings flashes of bright suns and fire. So much fire. Burning alive. I have to remind myself that I am not burning alive. It’s just a candle. The worse that happens is a bit of wax on my fingers.
I am not burning alive. He is not trying to manipulate me. He likes you. You are not on fire. Breathe.
Shhhhh it’s raining. A pool is starting to form outside your house and now you are scared at the sound of doors unlocking and keys in locks.
Yes it might be a bit lonely and the rain is keeping him away. Now, you are scared for his homecoming. The rain keeps away which both is a blessing and why you hurt. His warmth giving hope and allowing your tomato to grow but also reminding you of what you have lost and survived.
It takes both rain and the sun to grow a tomato. I am just scared that I will grow too accustomed to one or I will vacate the house leaving that tomato plant for some other kind eye to care for it.
I am standing up against the gun that I handed you and am daring you not to pull the trigger but your eyes are wandering everywhere but me. I should—- have throw out that tomato plant.
Should I publish a poetry book?
OH HEY, FOR BEST VIEWING, YOU'LL NEED TO TURN YOUR PHONE