The Victim

The Boy who never wanted me— To know anything About where he had slept at night The Boy who dreamt Upon basement steps, locked behind a door Of his father's key. A book,sealed with tricks— Vexation and deception. The sick splashes of violets and rubies Shattered upon his broken glass skin Were always accidents. The Boy who tucked away his voice And folded his thoughts into a trunk— with no latch Has found that emptiness Comes from holding on— to everything.