The Twisted Heart

Written from an early memory of my friend breaking into tears after his parents split up.

Unexpected, his face crumples,
His eyes being lost.
The Gateways to his soul becoming slits.
I never see the glisten
Of a bead along his cheek,
But he convulses.
His whole body jolts, tortured.
I want to reach out,
Speak to him, say something,
But my arm’s length is a desert,
And I dare not reach through the baron.
And what could I say?
Cliché riddled lies delivered
By a quivering tongue.
So I watch as he burns.
His skin is neutral,
But his heart is twisting, screaming,
Licked by the flames of grief,
Then thrown
Into unknown pits, confused.
I cannot speak.
Cannot reach out my hand,
Pat him on the back.
Refuse myself the chance
To patronize him more than
“I know how you feel.”
So I let him weep.