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
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 friend…
then quietly placed his love in the museum of his soul.
avp
the pile of faded blue 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