The Boy who never wanted me—
To know anything
About where he had slept at night
The Boy who dreamt
Upon basement steps, locked behind a door
Of his father's key.
A book,sealed with tricks—
Vexation and deception.
The sick splashes of violets and rubies
Shattered upon his broken glass skin
Were always accidents.
The Boy who tucked away his voice
And folded his thoughts into a trunk— with no latch
Has found that emptiness
Comes from holding on—
to everything.