Ambrosia

What a curse to be given
To not know
To not believe
What to all others stands out as unquestionable
To spew poison from your mouth without knowing
To ensnare with the deepest recesses of your iris
To break the very things you so desperately try to touch
To seek a friend
To find a suitor
To burn the hearts of those you fondly cradle in your thoughts
Immortal love you have to give
But why can they not see it?
Rose tinted glasses provide visions of passion
False assurance
Someone to sip the sweet nectars of their accomplishments
To caress
To confess
Pastel drapes drawn over cookie cutter windows
Shuts out foul air
Shuts in foul air
Sweet breeze forgotten
Everything or nothing
Is this flattery?
Starving children cry at burt fingers when their plate is too hot
Steaming ambrosia loses charm
When none can indulge in it’s nectar.