he roams my mind like a tourist in a pretty town,
he’s been looking at my past and the scars,
he only loves the pretty things,
the flavescent leaves on the ground,
the flowers blooming by the riverside.
the red skies and orange sunsets,
the stentorian voices of the singers by the bar,
the pretty hookers standing near the theater.

he can’t go everywhere,
scared to enter the dark alleys,
horrified after seeing the carcass of my past selves,
covering his ears as the bombs explode near the woods,
running away in fear after seeing gorgons step out of the water.

an afraid young man
running for his life
from my mind
because he was scared that he’ll only love one mind forever
that he won’t get to stomp in the grounds of other minds,
that the dark alleys he saw
will welcome him instead
and the gorgons
will greet him with smiles on their faces.
the hookers by the theater will flash him,
the singers’ voices will echo in his ear.
the skies will beg him to stay,
the leaves will remind him of us,
he will stare longer at the scars.
he’ll feel guilty about my past
but he will leave
because that’s what he does
every single time.