3^0 sick

photo credits here

by turdle

The child scuttles
Giddy to confess –
Profess – his
Love, yes,

Since surely
Strikes subdued

Cynic logic, the
Buzz of hormones
Brew dynamite stew.

Premier offers distance,
Another insists disbelief;
He – the third – sweetens
Fancy to affinity,

Friendship hits
Hushed, hard.

Newcomers –
Eyes on them,
Transfixed, searching.

Failure tempers-
The child observes,
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.

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,
It’s hard.

For now,
He wistfully walks,
Wishing to reach that
Unknown, unmoving horizon
Where love may be





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