it’s hard 
when I measure my self-worth
with all those goals I made
so long ago
still a distant horizon
that I’m not sure
I’ll make

here I am 
standing in a barren orchard
a pretender
empty pockets
hands
with a full chest
of yearning

to feel that neon glow
a ripe red kiss
that spirals from the chest
like a confirmation from God

so this constant storm
will relent
and give me a single moment
to sit still
feel my body settle
without that heavy 
unforgiving 
break-your-fingers
to make it stop
at the edge of gritted teeth