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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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feeling unnoticed,

he continued to put himself in the

way of his own beauty.

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