Some Worm

I wish the letters we exchanged were burned:
The flame would light the summer sky for weeks,
And bring a healthful colour to my cheeks.
I wish that neither one of us had yearned
For something neither one of us had earned
Through arduous endeavour on tall peaks,
Among jet-setters, or with drug-crazed freaks,
Or watching closely how some worm had turned.

I wanted everything, and told you so,
As foolishly as you, who told much less,
Told me much more than I wanted to know.
I falter through this broad, unordered mess;
You make attempts to soothe me with a show
Of love; answering, I can only guess.

Our Hearts, part 14