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first love

Surrounded by pitches of darkness
His silence drowns in impure actions.

His first love
Only loves the concept
He visualizes his own shadow
In every open door he closes
He never exercises his mind
So he is bent out of shape
When his circle has an accident, no insurance,
He rides around in a triangle.

Home is where you make it
The problem is that home
Is also where the heart sleeps
So he slumbers in the abyss of uncertainty
Tunneled in caves
Where exes mark the spot of heartbreak
He has mutated his mindset
He is every superhero a woman dreams of
He is every rebound
The center of gravity in love never jumped for
He has tried to move on
Only to find himself back at start
He is a loner but never alone
He foreplays in four way intersections
Of nothingness

Surrounded by pitches of darkness
His silence survives impure actions.

©Paris “Chi” Butler, “Home”. 09/28/2012. All Rights Reserved.