He turned off the light
not because he wanted darkness
but because the light had become it.
avp
He turned off the light
not because he wanted darkness
but because the light had become it.
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
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 …
avp
the pile of faded out t-shirts
that sit silent in the corner of an empty room
still have the scented memories
of his wasted kisses, lost loves,
and the absent knowing
of how to feel something for someone.
avp
the hidden winds blew
and what was once written,
is now erased.
avp
in the basement of his soul,
concealed scars reached up to
turn off the light to his heart.
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
driving into the unknown
on flat tires
that follow shadows and empty signs,
he left behind
another second chance.
avp