he used to grow his hair wild like ivy and kept it for hiding all of the self imposed wounds on his skull from beating his head off of the wall
had he not learned a lesson from the first love at all?
how could he bloom in his house like a zoo ruled by Mosaic Jesus's and rosaries on a loop
he held his words prisoner like the bird in it's cage
his pond was full of beer and red white and blue couples photographs
maybe the red velvet dress she wore reminded him of theater seats and her near black hair was the charcoal stage and the scars from their love was the masking tape trying to fix what was broken from the start
maybe he made a mistake trying to love her but everyone deserves their fair attempt at being someone else for a day or two years
but the blue of his eyes always revealed the truth