Green-eyed

I am a curly haired boy

He has straight hair that the wind loves to comb thru

I am stout

He’s not overweight

Like the porridge Goldilocks engorged

I know it

 I do

You like the boy

I saw it

I watched

                                But not too long

Just enough to see

the way you gaze at his fresh young body,

his youth

                That I once had, the one I rid myself of to fit your circle

You touch him a bit too long

You look at him a bit too earnest

And it’s fine, I’m fine

Fine: an old linen aging, browning, and turning in to rag

                                                At the slightest useful

Fine: a wall thawing from winter’s cloak, cracking silently, unnoticeably

                                                Still stable

I’m fine

I just wait and sigh, wait and sigh

wait and sigh

From the trenches of a cliff inside my chest,

I exhaled,

It echoed perhaps prayed,

                                   “He’ll come home with me”