there was a boy

whose touch felt like heartbeats, deep and fierce  –
strong enough to loosen their bony cage.

whose voice was an open window in a thunderstorm  –
surging through the heaviness of earth wind and fire.

whose body was the stones of Pompeii –
still standing, after everything.

whose stare was a handgun in a purse – 
unassuming and treacherous 
all at once.

there was a boy whose skin felt like the last page of a novel – 
inked with story. inked with finality.
(we get no sequel here). 

S. 

{Photo: Alatoran: 24/31}