there was a boy
made of clouds and constellations
whose voice never reached above a whisper
his hair was littered
with petals plucked from wildflowers
and his eyes were as soft and blue
as the sky after sunrise
his heart was made of glass then
easily breakable and fragile
like the rest of him
maybe that's why
he didn't get out much
and instead
he wrote poems full of beautiful words
and his hands stayed covered in black ink
