The Light

 You're a boy enslaved by your need to belong, be loved. You're a fool for shiny toys and skin and bones. You're cold to me in your own way, because the love I gave to you was taken but yet it wasn't enough.

For those things, the light that once peaked through that cage just beyond where your heart hangs withering and unquenched in the Californian sun has faded.

Last night, you played music. In that hot house, in that grey room, on that giant bed of yours. You played music and I folded your clothes. And I felt like I knew you. And I, for a short while, remembered that there once was a light.