he had been broken many times.
like lego spaceships thrown down the stairs,
he had once hoped to fly.
they all said no.
but this time,
like a watch with three hands,
was different.
he could let no one near.
friends, family, people who are supposed to be there,
they all do their own thing.
everyone he knows has fangs.
it had been enough of that by now,
he would jump one last time.
not to anyone but himself;
this home is not where his heart is.
clouds whisper on his face,
he stretches out,
the farther he can reach from this place the better.
higher, higher, higher.
there was no longer wind in his trailing hair,
no breath in his lungs.
cold.
then, for a few seconds,
he high-fives Icarus,
and is going backwards.
flew too close to the damn sun.
the brightest light in his path,
was the biggest obstacle.
smoldering,
crumpled,
there is no escaping this.
the prods and pokes of blunt half cares surround him with their owners,
the friends and family that were the trampoline he jumped off to begin this toasty expedition.
they walk away,
their cool shadows no longer keeping that bright monster's rays off his burns it personally inflicted.
there was no shirt left against his ribs,
his arms bare.
only shotty jean shorts,
the lucky kind that seem to protect the junk while clothing withers,
like when hulk rampages.
but amidst this,
he feels one shadow that did not leave.
it gets closer.
he begs for no contact,
but this does not hurt.
fingertips graze his back,
he instinctively curls up, waiting for the inferno that has been physical touch.
there is no fire.
the tips of a million strands of hair cascade over the back of his neck,
it is beautiful.
soft lips brush his ear,
so carefully.
trust me, she says.
he already does.
light finger tips trace every scar and burn on his torn back,
she is like no other.
soothing as she does,
she rolls him over to face up.
the light drills through his head,
he knew the fire would come.
no no no no no, he pleads,
naked without the dirt on his face.
an ocean spray cascades his neck again,
she carefully holds herself over his prone form.
the same lips from his ear touch each eye,
the fire is put out.
her nose slips up against his,
her soft lips to his own, cracked and sun burnt.
he feels her words form on her lips.
trust me, she says.
the home where his heart belongs,
is the embrace of those five loving fingers that traced his back.
i already do, he says.
he splits his eyes open enough to see a myriad of stars look back at him from her two eyes.
she already knew.
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