in the basement of his soul,
concealed scars reached up to
turn off the light to his heart.
avp
in the basement of his soul,
concealed scars reached up to
turn off the light to his heart.
avp
carved away by a river of pain,
the worn and jagged edges of his heart
now expose the forgotten sedimentary layer
of how to love.
avp
surrounded by caffeine and smoke,
he painted his portrait
in the misty colors of his personal mythology
to obscure the bruises and scars
only visible to him.
avp
thickly layered and fragile
he sat in his safe space
framed by the things he’d become.
jealous for never taking chances
or challenging his truths
made of glue and antiseptic.
avp
with the flowers quickly fading
and his parents passed,
he listened for their whisper through the rain
just to have some small hope
he wasn’t alone.
avp
wearing his favorite t-shirt
and a coquettish grin,
he played board games
with dice and peoples hearts
losing his turn at love…
on his final spin.
avp
within the broken heart
is a voice without a sound,
birds without a song,
stained glass without light,
stars without the night,
healing without mistakes
and a life without love.
avp
he hides himself away
in a corner where nobody can see
he never bleeds,
he never heals.
avp
even his pen was too shy
to say the choler words he felt,
afraid they’d awaken his dormant stones of pain.
so the words remained trapped inside the timid ink
of immearsurable emotions unanswered,
never to be written.
avp
with no thoughts or prayers
he packed up his stuff
and walked through the door of his own secret self,
turning back momentarily to watch
the leaves fall on his bed.
avp