he started the night
wiping beer sweat
down the wooden
paneled insulation
swallowing his hair
out of fear
that the girl he loves
has a body that's here
but a mind that's
been buried under
tin cans full of desire
we used to admire
him when he chose
to swing from the tree
limbs into oblivion
snorting the fall leaves
in through his skin
his helping hand
was glued to the
door that jealousy
continued to open
and close as fast
as she could scream
for privacy and yet
he was forgiven
in the morning
he laid on leather
shame and she found
herself above the grave
floating through
apparitions of
blonde hair as
white as a hospital curse
she never saw him burst
but maybe that wasn't him
it must have been
insecurity personified
into a little boy
with a lit candle stick
and a girl who never
learned that she is
allowed to jump
without the shame of
plaid skirts that handicap
the brain until its grey
but its fine

all is forgiven
i heard that violence goes away
but never does sin