Naive boy of summer,
you are golden—
your hands have reached places
I could never begin to imagine,
the world is handed to you
so you toss it and turn it
without ever meaning to hurt anybody.
You’ve got kingdoms at your feet
and your name is sung like a tender praise,
a sweet taste in the mouths of boys and girl alike,
that is how you are loved so.
The world has hurt you,
and still the light in your eyes has never gone out—
a light that is enough to illuminate the darkest cities.
You live as if you have never been
wounded,
broken,
bruised.
You walk into a room
so nonchalantly, with a smile on your face
and suddenly there is a change of pulse;
a kind regard for everyone you come across shines through
that people would just love to be around you.
Without ever meaning to,
You have us wide-eyed,
in awe of who you are
and one could only dream to have their own time with you.
Yet here you are, in the night,
hanging by a thread,
you seek momentary bliss from a cigarette under the bridge
or from the bottom of a bottle;
in your beauty and stupor
you call this being alive.
And in your pain, in your adventure, in your life,
you have learned so well to love,
your heart has only grown so big
it takes all the joys and pain it can take...
but silly boy,
have you ever learned to love yourself?