Incidents.

I have never been good at growing things-

My thumbs have always been black, not green

stained with ink instead of chlorophyll and

I have a habit of breaking unbreakable things

like diamond rings and hearts with

my habit of running before I look down at what’s beneath me and thus

I often uproot delicate things without meaning to. 

I have never understood the nature of patience

my world has been barren and I have built castles from

the dust and been content

or something like it. 

But you are alien and soft and insistent,

and I stare in awe as green shoots push up from the rocky soil

so thin I can fool myself into thinking they’re a mirage

until I run my rough palms across their surface

and wince.