He sobs about desiring things he’s only ever read about in books,
not comprehending why he was dealt stab wounds when others were dealt invitations to belong.
He pleads for love and family and belonging,
for validation of his worth and interaction with people who build him up, not shred him apart.
“Would you know it if you saw it?” I asked him.
“If it was in front of me I could do nothing but reach out and grab it” he promised me.
Now, that very love he desires is hitting him in the face.
Or rather, thumping salve onto his shredded back.
He just doesn’t know love is painful too.