Naive boy of summer, you are golden— your hands have reached places I could never begin to imagine, the world is handed to you so you toss it and turn it without ever meaning to hurt anybody. You’ve got kingdoms at your feet and your name is sung like a tender praise, a sweet taste in the mouths of boys and girl alike, that is how you are loved so.
The world has hurt you, and still the light in your eyes has never gone out— a light that is enough to illuminate the darkest cities. You live as if you have never been wounded, broken, bruised. You walk into a room so nonchalantly, with a smile on your face and suddenly there is a change of pulse; a kind regard for everyone you come across shines through that people would just love to be around you. Without ever meaning to, You have us wide-eyed, in awe of who you are and one could only dream to have their own time with you.
Yet here you are, in the night, hanging by a thread, you seek momentary bliss from a cigarette under the bridge or from the bottom of a bottle; in your beauty and stupor you call this being alive.
And in your pain, in your adventure, in your life, you have learned so well to love, your heart has only grown so big it takes all the joys and pain it can take... but silly boy, have you ever learned to love yourself?