Overgrown unwashed hair,


Strong hands with elegant fingers, balled into fists at your side. 


Bruised, He's hurt, He's Bruised.

hurt from forcing words out, with skinny

Cowering shoulders, a flick of your hair, a scratch of your neck 

A comment thrown here, there, a dismissal.

The way you stared up at the sky and glazed over 

As if you'd accepted that there was nothing more for you than this,

Right then, right there.  

Bruised, He's hard to miss, He's the boy hiding behind the sun.




The End

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