Innocence in Places it Does not Belong

I am sick in the brain and hollow in the heart

empathy does not touch me because it would be to much to handle

he does not expect my sympathies though because he has enough for the two of us

I tell him I think that I met God once

or maybe it was an angel

or a saint

or even the devil itself

it looked like a cat stray as can be

covered in fleas and a rash that would never heal

I stopped on my walk to work and crouched down beside him

to tell him the story of a girl without a Mother

and how that girl was me

the god the angel the saint the devil said that I was pathetic

because I was letting misery rule my life

it asked me if I was happy

being a cocktail bar for the maggots

letting them feast on my insides because of how rotten my heart is

he asks if they go for the liver or brain first

and I neglected to answer

instead I got up and walked away

and later that night the boy kissed the top of my scalp

where I realized that

he is the warmth of chicken broth on a cold empty stomach

raw honey being drizzled on the tip of your tongue

warm summer nights skinny dipping on your favorite childhood beach

the sound of a heartbeat while it slows down after the anxiety passes

he is

my favorite poem

but I was to scared to admit it so I bought a plane ticket to france

a bottle of jack

and a prescription of prozac

I gave the pharmacist my plane ticket

the bartender my prescription

and the flight attendant the whiskey

and at the end of the night

he

the boy

the boy with honey coated kisses and

the hugs of warm chicken broth

still picked me up from the airport

kissed my scalp

and drove me home

because home is him

and he is home