A note from the author to the author:
do not be a coward.

At what speed do I have to move to outrun
warmth,
fading red of pomegranate tree I just noticed,
buzzing sounds of cars
that murmur candy-sweet rush into my ears.
Where’s the destination for glowing?
When looking at my hands means knowing-
their brittleness is the void you calmly stare into.
Is there right speed to gallop?
when someone effortlessly hits the loop
and hiding becomes an option, not a need.
Why these thorns recolor as pastel pink?
and no one explains how this mind, ever-resisting , starts to shrink.
I’ve lived the same eye blink,
over and over and again,
fragile worries go by,
I make peace with being unsafe.
And if things could someday rearrange,
would gentle way of speaking outrange
the rage-
I gaze through at myself.
You’ll show up at every finish line I pass,
and pillow talk me out of my cadet blue glass,
You’ll blow up tender firecrackers under my feet,
but I have to stand still,
I’m not colorblind,
here in my loneliness the grass’s dreadfully green.