someone told me he was hiding
he vaguely details his abuse
what it feels like the intimacy issues
the shrugging arrogance of love
someone tells me he is dying
on a napkin he inks out the invisible
unwelcome suffocating in a dream
he stabs it into his mind’s eye
someone will talk about hope
this dear fear of dreaded things
washed and rinsed honestly undressed
then playing, again, momentarily hidden
beneath the bay window.
