huckleberry

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

wasted

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