something he heard of,
something he’s seen
something he never felt
AVP
before
before words became bruises,
before your hand was a weapon,
before my shirt lost its white,
and before tears were my food,
you were my father
and i was your son.
avp
AVP
raindrops
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
plan b
old shadows
that hover over the rocks and stones
in front of him
lead him with the wicked echos of regret
that his life had only become
his plan b.
avp
window
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
van Gogh
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
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
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
rhythmic
the duel between his heart and mind
became a dance in rhythmic measure
of opening and closing,
each inflicting strict penalties on him
of reward and punishment
as conditions for love.
avp
weaving
sitting in his chair of discouragement
weaving individual threads of pain,
he created a blanket of
sadness scrawling across the floor.
avp
Unfinished Souls 