White paint peels off to leave the walls bare,
naked and exposed to
elements.
Much like his soul.
Starved of love and affection,
accepted but not wanted.
Tolerated.
The sun casts his shadows on those
He frowns upon,
leaving winding roads to spiral out of control.
Time shifts his world from
it's axis as it progresses,
it doesn't heal,
it doesn't lessen,
It just is.
Echoes of your voice ricochets
to find his heart,
carrying the exact weight they
did the second they fled your tongue,
never shedding an ounce of momentum

"The waves of pain
that had only lapped at him
before now
reared up high and pulled him under .."