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