wasp

I’ve a capacity for cruelty.

And I’ll be the first to say

I know

it’s wrong,


to let the darkness in to play (in from the rain)

without checking intentions

at the door.


I want


to hurt sometimes,


to crush these friends of mine—

pressing efforts into dust so fine


that it’s not.


So wasteful to leave

hard-earned apples in the sun


just to prove

they’re yours to rot.


But I do.

I leave them blue.


And in those seconds while the wasps descend,

I think I finally understand


You.

9 views

Thoughts? Questions? Drop a Message Here!

All poems and photos © 2020 by Alina Martel. Created proudly with Wix.com