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Sylvia

please
i want so badly for the good things to happen
sweet Sylvia
i'm trapped in your jar
looking unto the world from afar
the glass so thick
it's like i'm oceans apart
from these good things
you dream so much about,
the fig tree is falling
and dropping at my feet
i'm surrounded by decaying fruit
yet every person that i meet
is gorging
savoring
on ripe opportunity
theirs for the taking
as i continue to starve
to death of my own making,
give me something
i'm suffocating
on the smell of fresh linen and warm air
queer and sultry
perhaps flowers will grow over me,
like a lavender field in the country
i deserve a spring
and a summer
and another and another and another
so the good things can finally happen
i will not succumb to the jar
and the heat
Sylvia one day we shall eventually meet
and i will tell you about the good things
that you never got to see

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