He made me
Rip my heart out
and shove it down my throat
In hopes
that I would choke without
his hands getting *****
with the blood of my mind

His eyes are filled with sadness
And his voice resonates hate.
He may try to mask it, but his smile he can never fully elate.
His heart is filled with longing
And feeling he can not understand
Because he missed his childhood and quickly had to become a man.
He wasn't left quickly, but the time and pain drug on.
The man he visited in the bed was a stranger and his father was long gone.
The goodbyes were not easy and time will make them harder.
His eyes still fill with sadness when he thinks about the loss.
He usually hides the hatred behind a joke and laugh,
A pitied young man on a burdensome path.

I miss my cargo green canvas backpack

Shredded with the mass of three
science textbooks: biology,
classical history, chemistry.

Not like backpack was meant for
several colossal three hundred page
hardcover books.

When it was empty,
it was light,
barely anything, tugging
on my shoulders;
but I insisted the friend come with me.

But I used backpack
for study,
drudgery,
play.
The linen wore
with every use.

It was my safety blanket,
under loose cloth
that contained
sacarine
orange glucose
tablets that I hoped
to never need

Inside the main large pocket,
there was a secret
zipper, within held
a pack of cigarettes,
an excuse,
to pardon myself into a realm of aloneness-
with little questions asked

There were strings that adjusted
its position on my back that
I would pull down,
using tension to fling myself
terminal to terminal

More than fifteen times, I lost
count, of my partner traversing
across oceans, gently cradling my laptop and phone-
my trusted links
with the outside world

Nervousness alleviated by the tassels
in my mouth, I bite and chew
on the cloth, but it holds steadfast
as I ponder how to approach
what's next,
the bittersweet coffee they fell into
rehydrates with my salivating mouth,
hungry for adventure
but a stomach empty
knots itself
anxious
for what's to come

My backpack weighs
on my shoulders, empty or full,
but it's trained my body
to carry the load thoughts in my
head bring upon me

But it yielded to what was to come,
the seams at the bottom gave out.
Backpack let me know: I needed to
learn to carry on
without reliance.

and as quickly as God gave you life, he took it away

8 years pass
my heart is so empty
yet so full of grief.
A world
with no mother
nor father
is not a life at all.
The bliss of you both
here
is now gone.
For the only feelings
I have left,
are those
of bewilder.