His name argues for sanity
sparking with a pulsing beat
she asks for familiarity
hoping for something sweet
His name mirrors police sirens
screaming down the gutter
a scribbled note by his bed
and a name tag that lost its owner
His name is a local call
haunting her number
she answers, having forgotten
he’s hidden in ground
under a pile of lumber
His name is a deep red
painted in her eyes
a reflection of the calluses
which surface beyond her lies
His name will develop
as the wings of a butterfly
though maybe not today
when the sun still mourns his goodbye
His name is her sin
his name, a child’s grief
his name for now is forgotten
a burden—a stabbed masterpiece
About the Creator
Alivia Evans
Writing Blogger
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