Enough

It’s not fair, how you hold me

so casually in your palm,

*

forgetting I’m there

as you go about your day.

*

Slipping me into your pocketbook

like car keys, held for safekeeping

*

and then forgotten till needed again,

if ‘needed’ is even the right description.

*

I am a shaped thing to you,

decoration, an origami creation,

*

all folds and creases. Testament

to your skill, reflecting your Light’s

*

power, an insect drawn to the sugar

of your essence, but a paper replica

*

unable to fly, a novelty you pull out

that makes you smile at the remembrance.

*

But to be that close to you, in those barren moments…

I’ll take it.