table

looking down through his glass 

held by hands like bricks,

he saw where the wine from tears

had left their stains of disappointment 

deep inside the splinters of a broken table.

                                                                                                                                   avp

                                                                           

                                              

jealous

 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

shy

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