he fell without a sound
in that place where she gave him scars.
where love was never there to last,
only the conditions to steal it away …
leaving him forsaken and alone.
he fell without a sound
in that place where she gave him scars.
where love was never there to last,
only the conditions to steal it away …
leaving him forsaken and alone.
something he heard of,
something he’s seen
something he never felt
AVP
before words became bruises,
before your hand was a weapon,
before my shirt lost its white,
and before tears were my food,
you were my father
and i was your son.
avp
AVP
along with the
feathered fragment remains
in ashes of clipped wings,
he kept his love in a dust pan
hidden in a corner
where no light would find it.
avp
looking down through his glass
held by hands like bricks,
he saw where the tears of wine
had left their stains of disappointment
deep inside the splinters of a broken table.
avp
he hoped the lonely tears that fell down his cheeks
were like the raindrops that fall down from the sky …
for only a little while.
AVP
old shadows
that hover over the rocks and stones
in front of him
lead him with the wicked echos of regret
that his life had only become
his plan b.
avp
the boy in the window
carving a broken heart in his breath,
realized the condensation dripping down
was like watching his tears…
die on his lips.
avp
he freed his fingers from my hand
to paint his own van Gogh
on the side of another square
he felt was a better fit.
avp
with a carnival balloon in hand
and paper banjos playing softly beside the river he walked home,
pausing only for a moment
to released the fictional helium hope
of ever finding his own huckleberry friend…
then quietly placed his love in the museum of his soul.
avp