The Boy

He brushed his face across her own,
Maybe for the first time or the last;
He hadn’t decided.
Now wondering where to go,
He ran for the door, but, oh!
It led right back to the room he’d first found his escape.
Some secret hideaway within the walls
Between her calls.
He scribbled verses, as well as curses,
In the cracks between the cracks
Between us all.
The girl could read them, sure.
She found a way to pry out a word or so.
She put them on her shelf beside the others, 
Hoping they’d piece together after some time.
Eventually, he found some light
Slipping through the boards of his safety,
A way outside,
And he left behind the whispers,
The writing on the wall,
And walked away.

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