By Ryann Drue, TIWP Student
his only regret was burning all the mirrors,
not for him to admire his facade in them
but because he felt alone now.
he felt comfort at the bottom of a swimming pool,
open eyes and closed lungs,
holding his breath for the girl
that would never do the same for him.
but he was used to it,
used to rejection and the betrayal.
it filled his little heart of smoke and cocaine
and his little eyes that hid beneath those black oval sunglasses.
to him, the cocaine was sugar
and the smoke was oxygen.
alcohol tasted bland
and so did his life.
at night, with those black glasses, he would look at the stars
at the big and little dippers
at orion’s belt and the rest of the sprinkled stars.
all the stars were dead souls,
the unwanted ones that now lived in a lovely palace in the sky.
he wanted to go there,
beyond the feelings he had banished.
and so the boy became one of those stars,
one of brightest.
and he finally felt the feeling he had never known
of what could be called