Dear little boy with big blue eyes
and long
dark lashes,

        come out and play.
        you walk so slowly
        each step
        painfully determined

        I can see you
        hiding behind the shades of grey
        my dear
        I can see you

        Life’s not always
        black and
            white
        sometimes, there’s color too.

        My darling little boy
        with long
        calloused fingers and
        beautiful blonde hair

        come out and play
        run and
            dance and
                           stomp around
        
        Darling,
        it’s safe here
        Safe
            to be happy
            to let go of your fears
        safe to shed the past for sunshine

        And even though
        I can’t
        hold your hand
            forever

        
        I will always come back
        for you
        I will come back
        Always


                                        I promise,
                                        I love you

Consumed
That’s what I am
That’s what we all are

Engulfed
by the flaming desire to be that
special something

The special something that
shimmers and
sparkles
in the light
Creating ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’
at every turn of the page

It lives in the back of our minds.
That desire.
Crouching
Waiting for
yet another chance to look
for the
golden pedestal

So,
I am consumed by search
The search for that
special something

In people and places
I’ve looked in
books and
movies and
a few mirrors
here
    and there
But
no image seems to measure up

I just can’t figure it out

My life is laced
with reminders of
the golden pedestal
So,
I’ll let the flames continue
licking my skin
until I’m
nothing
more than burnt ashes
consumed
by the words on a page

So the coin sits on the table
The truth facing up
The lies facing down
But from my place on the edge
I can’t see either clearly

Somehow you always change.
You grow up.
You find out that the bad guys don’t have horns or claws.
They look normal.
They act normal.
Until the one day that they don’t.

And it’s almost like a disappointment.
You expected the world to be so clearly cut
But there is no bigger picture.
There is no rulebook
or plan
Only what’s in front of you

the world is big and scary
    and awful
    and
    

wonderful

Somehow you always change
I guess it’s called growing up.