He is blank stares
soft hellos and
simple strugs

He is the freedom you feel
watching a sunset in mid July

He is your favorite cup of coffee in
an empty shop half past two

He is the prayers you say
before you sleep and
secret you couldn’t keep

He is your hopes and dreams
of getting the hell out of here

He is chaos that is grasping
for order
and the anchor that makes things
sink

He is an unmarked grave
in a cemetery full of headstones
and all of the things at
the bottom of the ocean

He is a room
filled with dusty books
that you will never be able
to read
and the other side of the
crescent moon

I guess some things
you just can’t explain