I ask him, "Are you okay?"
He is taken aback by my question.
He looks into my eyes. He has nice eyes. All the girls love them.
But they're so, so sad.
He shakes his head slightly. I notice.
"I'm okay,"
And I realise:
All these boys with charming, dimpled smiles and sparkling eyes and big words and big dreams and big houses are cracked and broken somewhere, they are ripped edges of masterpieces.
All these boys who have the world have nothing at all.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Hearts
Poetry"You either get it down on paper or jump off a bridge." - Charles Bukowski Just snippets of stories I can't seem to get out of my head. All cover credit goes to the wonderful @mydearcc
