photo credits here
by turdle
The child scuttles
Giddy to confess –
Profess – his
Love, yes,
Since surely
Defeat
Strikes subdued
Early.
Cynic logic, the
Buzz of hormones
Brew dynamite stew.
Premier offers distance,
Another insists disbelief;
He – the third – sweetens
Fancy to affinity,
Platonic.
Friendship hits
Hushed, hard.
Newcomers –
Eyes on them,
Transfixed, searching.
Failure tempers-
The child observes,
Yearning
For signs.
Signs always tell tales:
First gives touch,
Another sings admiration;
Both express longing for his
Vicinity and presence.
Yet confirmation must wait –
Signs lie;
Society begets lies,
He tells himself.
Restraint is lonely.
Necessary.
The third finds his her
For now
And the child
Is happy –
He told himself he would be –
He should be…
And he is.
Logic begs for
Protection, flight,
Transcendence.
It’s hard.
For now,
He wistfully walks,
Wishing to reach that
Unknown, unmoving horizon
Where love may be
Soon.
nushpress 