drowning,
its hard to come up for air
when your wings
are made of stone.
AVP
drowning,
its hard to come up for air
when your wings
are made of stone.
AVP
clouds gather ‘round
packaged secrets in a prayer.
pulling at the seams
& searching for signs
of temptation or salvation,
they find a heart already sinned.
AVP
having been loved
by people with broken arms,
created in him an innate way
of letting people go easily.
AVP
thinking i was
only defined by my mistakes,
i forgot to connect the dots
that draw the dawn
and end the night.
AVP
its harder now
to turn the pages of my life,
but there’s a flicker of hope
from shadows holding on to a hotel light
that give me peace on these empty roads.
it’s the possibility,
that love,
may still be more than
an old book in this cold room.
AVP
dirty love,
a roll of the dice,
a clean shirt on
AVP
they built flimsy walls
with cardboard boxes
filled with half of what they felt,
in hopes of protecting
all they really wanted.
AVP
walking over chalk drawn sidewalks,
he fumbled through my pockets of
hopscotch decisions looking for answers.
instead, he found handfuls of
question marks on top of his periods.
AVP
he never asked for this
as his dad mocked him on the sidewalk
talking loud and ugly without words
for his behaviors and interests,
the dad knew …
the true meaning
of what his dads gestures meant
about him were unknown at the time
but, the child knew …
so he lived a life
feeling small, ashamed, unaccepted, alone
and never good enough inside …
the gay son knew …
he never asked for this life.
AVP
standing on the scaffolding
that surrounds his heart,
he paint the mistakes he made
in robes of ancient white..
wearing sneakers in the snow.
AVP