I’m not supposed to feel this way;
like a firefly lost in a forest,
always to be unseen by your brilliant eyes;
like a frog floating on a lily pad
too far from the shore.
There is clarity before dawn,
but blindness in the day;
and I am not to feel
as a rat searching for a crumb
while you’re far away dreaming
of a honey bee napping on lilacs
against an auburn sky
resting its gaze upon your lips,
just barely alive
through the cracks in the trees.
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