The Green and Mauve Poem

The Green and Mauve Poem

 

 

This
                    poem is
                 green and mauve
               There is an ache in
             the soft space Where
          fruits weigh heavily though
      I cannot taste what clearly is A
    finger’s touch away How could I
   not covet the things that thrived
   so effortlessly I am not a thing of
  ease I am made of a Passion
    that Withers Tenderly, slowly
How i hate intangibility,
Being a vessel of
culture