The Escapist

you tried to straitjacket his heart only to learn you can't lay bricks in a dream you don't own or hang your coat on a star or stop their spinning as you hide away in your astronaut suit tracing tails of imaginary comets wishing for cinder and smoke with a palm full of ashes what a fool to think his mercurial heart would stay that he would draw galaxies on your back for light-years without falling for space how hopeful to believe him worthy of your shine his black hole eyes gave no constellations to your flaws the gravity of his words the confusion of his orbit around her if only he'd taught you the art of escape the art of

letting

go

In the produce section

a revelation is poised
along apple skin and citrus rind
my sour taste forgotten, her fresh bite
to soft core

as eyes glide past to golden, red,
green
and newly fallen fruit
picked in your favor
prove more desiring to tongue