There is a boy
His skin is a warm dawn on the eastern mountains
His smile is the flick of a match in isolated darkness
He does not hold to the world, only the people of it
He cares for those with heavy hearts
But deep love is not one among his many skills
He never really fell, only tripping others to fall into him
I do not know how to leave him alone
So for now, I will wait here, collecting dust,
if only it means I will touch some of his particles that fall on the floor