indigo tundra
i was the first to hand you stars,
before you learned their names,
i carved maps into our shared skies
while you were still learning to play.
you touched the world i painted,
but left your fingerprints on another glass -
now i watch you from the outside,
laughing in a room i once had a key to.
i do not blame you for growing,
but i wonder why i feel so small
when all i did was let you bloom
without asking you to shrink at all.
i am tired of being a side note
in the story i helped you begin -
the muse in your gallery of phases,
never the artist, never the kin.
and yet -
i still look at flowers the same way,
still cry at old tunes
and drink sunlight like poetry
even if no one notices.
so maybe i’m not yesterday's leftovers,
maybe i’m someone you were lucky to meet.
maybe i am a quiet kind of rare.
not made for every crowd,
but for one opalescent soul
who will look at me and just know.
swift grail
peak sparrow