Your photos.

They make me sullen.

To see how much fun you’ve had while every day,

I amuse myself with mp3s, book lost on trains

and swaying daydreams as carriages loll.

Your profile makes me soften.

That you have such an effect on my newly scaffolded frame. 

Weakening the joints, and melting rough ends.

As the same old regrets fill my head and

then pour out both ears.

Do you know, they would strip the images from the picture postcard you sent me. 

Attempt to tell me you never enjoyed  yourself  so much 

And made me sullen in envy I could not be with you.

When the truth is it’s my own doing.

Green eyes are but the mixture of the bright blue Irises I possess 

And the gold light you beam into them, gleaned from experiences this wisher missed.