(just like eggshells
that could have been so easily held
in those naïve hands of yours…

…there I was.)

taking a needle and poking a hole in the egg
the yellow yolk spills out all over your hands
(wipe them on your jeans)

the scent of the yolk still haunts you
but look inside of the shell,
that's all that's left of me.
crush it in your palm if it pleases you,
but I'm just as hollow as my personality.

& should this event be happening
on a patch of green grass
just know that
lying in the grass doesn't give green (envy) grass stains;
it's the moving that does.

so don't move, darling.
we are fine where we are.