32

I look back

so far

on a life

made of broken glass

and

wishes.

Starving

for more

or less…

Whichever makes quiet.

Echoes of laughter

the sounds of lover’s tears

driving cars late into the night

looking for something

beautiful

to break.

A boy.

Alone in a room.

Always alone.

Damn alone.

Looking for the searing white light

of an aging horizon

or the sweet smell

of redemption.

Hell,

I’d even take blood.

These things are trivial to the

Bankers Lawyers Doctors Celebrities Technicians Engineers Beauty Queens

I’m sure.

But for those of us

still underground

reaching out

for the warmth

of dawn

or just the gentle touch

of a stranger

who knows no better

These things

are everything.

I am kept alive

somehow.

Now

what?

Photo by Martin Látal on Unsplash