huckleberry

with a carnival balloon in hand

and paper banjos playing softly beside the river he walked home,

he paused…

to released the fictional helium hope

of ever finding his own huckleberry friend

and quietly placed his love in the museum of his soul.

                                                                                           avp

wasted

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

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