The Flower Boy

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Late on a winter night, alone beneath a street light and beside a lonely bench, I stood

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Late on a winter night, alone beneath a street light and 
beside a lonely bench, I stood. Sometimes I would search
for inspiration in the dark, whether there was an arc
of 
starlight to guide me through the night or not. I needed a clue as
to where I could find a muse that would make me love
my own writing again. My cigarette burned low when
footsteps invaded the cold winter air. I watched as it faded,
the ember dying with anticipation as you gave liberation
to my tortured mind. You, growing where I never thought I'd find
a bloom. Now we're here, and I've fallen in love with you.
My flower boy, you could destroy my heart
and I would thank you in the process because you possess
the ability to make me not only love my writing, but everything
about the world. And that is worth any heartache you could
ever bring me.

I'm in love with you.
- M.Y. 


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