So this is where all the broken hearts go.
Charred land of the withering
We’re surrounded by summer pines.
There’s a bonfire raging in the middle
But we never stop shivering.
They’re in the plaza
By the turquoise tiled fountain
With a child not their own
Tossing nickels and pennies
Into shallow pools of blue.
They’re playing well with others.
They’re actualizing their potentials,
Cheering each other up, quietly playing board
Games and putting away all the pieces
When the games are done.
I know this is the place for me.
The second you wonder whether you belong
Is the instant you will be asked to leave.
There is no solace here,
Only the absence of loneliness.