Immutable Desolation
He was a lost boy. A sad boy. A crippled boy. He held in a unique perspective due to his fear of rejection. However, was a boy I loved. A boy with a heart of overflowing joy. A heart that held those closest to him. A hold of security that penetrated the emotions controlling his heart. Security that only sprouted to become contradictory. The heart of an angel. Yet a heart that possessed the traits of a devil. Traits that scared the ones he held closest. Characteristics that built an infinite line of walls around his mind. Denying access to those who wanted to love him most. Love that only seemed to be a foreign feeling to him. A feeling that shocked him into a state of oblivion and awe. Oblivion he painted onto the faces of those he loved most. A devastatingly beautiful masterpiece. A beauty in which possessed strokes of anguish. Strokes, which painted the distorted state of his mind. A mind so misunderstood. Misunderstanding that disintegrated his sanity. A sanity lost in his pool of resentment. A resentment towards change. A resentment towards love. A resentment towards me. He was a lost boy.
Yet through the tears that pooled along his lower lash line, that made his beautifully innocent emerald green eyes glimmer in the light of hope, and stain the milky pale skin with blotchy streams of red, there was the innocent being who had once accompanied me along the adventure we call life. His radiating gap toothed smile emitted the giggles of joy that sprouted deep roots into the innocent young soul I had once possessed, and brought me to a safe haven of false protection. His countless route of skipping and jumping about the living room and kitchen of the childhood house we once resided in were a constant source of attention, and my baby blues began to perceive his constant action as a source of entertainment rather than the results of a mental disorder. His obsessive tendencies conveyed through his actions became a normal reality unattainable outside the walls we called our own, and his surging intellectual capacity was one uncharted in society. The peppering of innocent kisses onto my cheeks that showed the early yet last traces of the love he held for his family filled my pure soul with content. In these moments I could only wish the beauty and love my perception had become fogged with had only mended the open wounds that invited the infection of misery to take over not only his life, but also mine subconsciously.
Yet through the tears that pooled along his lower lash line, that made his beautifully innocent emerald green eyes glimmer in the light of hope, and stain the milky pale skin with blotchy streams of red, there was the innocent being who had once accompanied me along the adventure we call life. His radiating gap toothed smile emitted the giggles of joy that sprouted deep roots into the innocent young soul I had once possessed, and brought me to a safe haven of false protection. His countless route of skipping and jumping about the living room and kitchen of the childhood house we once resided in were a constant source of attention, and my baby blues began to perceive his constant action as a source of entertainment rather than the results of a mental disorder. His obsessive tendencies conveyed through his actions became a normal reality unattainable outside the walls we called our own, and his surging intellectual capacity was one uncharted in society. The peppering of innocent kisses onto my cheeks that showed the early yet last traces of the love he held for his family filled my pure soul with content. In these moments I could only wish the beauty and love my perception had become fogged with had only mended the open wounds that invited the infection of misery to take over not only his life, but also mine subconsciously.