the me in we

[Steve]

The me
In we
Has a sick beauty
Seen on a grey day
Triumphantly rising above a months worth of newspapers
A pile of fast-food garbage
A few cigarette butts.
&the blue
So elegant brittle
Against the bleak exhaust world
Will wilt & fall to the depths of yesterdays business pages
Into the grease spotted wax paper
Out of the grey in time for a brilliant new day.
&the green stalks & leaves
Are only seen as a whisper is heard in times square
But will still grow another flower;
You & I know
The me
In we
Has no beauty
Without a you
To see the sick beauty of me.
&those whispers tender blue lips tell
Would be meaningless
If your heart never swelled
At their words intrepid honesty.