Prophetic

A boardwalk before dusk

Same hour as the night before,

Same small, french dog,

Same linked fingers, unbroken

The saturation of the evening sun paints their skin with my envy.

To wear their success story like a pageant sash

Beautifully archaic

To make the everyday into every reason

I was not cut out to walk their path;

Sinking waist-deep at the shoreline

Devoured by my own diffidence

I cannot grow beyond my tank

And you

Paying homage to my every dream

Rise above where I can reach like it is meant to be easy

Not long before I tear it all down

Like I don’t want it to be.

I am still waiting to grow

To pine after constancy

A late bloomer, you can say:

Indulging in what isn’t good for me