The Lost Boy

Her absolute
inability to keep
her hands
to herself;
that, he reflected,
marked the moment:
the sudden death
of his affection.

Now his hands
are everyone’s—
and no one’s.

He absolutely
embodies
her indiscretions;
wounding in fashion,
matching with precision
the patterns
of his scars.

This is his un-doing:
his choosing to remain
the lost boy.

author: rashael crystal
photo source: tumblr:letargos