The Boy With Empty Eyes

He sits on the doorstep
waiting for nothing
in the grey sweatshirt
with the hood pulled up
to hide from the world that
forgot him.

 

He puts a cigarette
between his thick lips
and the dancing whorls of smoke are mirrored
in his coal-black eyes

 

He sits on the doorstep
waiting for no one
in the Goodwill jeans
pulled from a trashbag
as unwanted as he feels.
Discarded.

 

He turns his face to the
dull whitish sky
and the great big angry clouds are mirrored
in his coal-black eyes.

 

He sits on the doorstep
waiting for nothing
in scuffed old Jordans
with heels worn down to
let the cold chill him from his toes
to his heart.

 

He watches the kids that
play in the street
and their laughing brown faces are mirrored
in his coal-black eyes.

 

He sits on the doorstep
waiting for no one
tossing a lighter
in a scarred left hand
with wounds that bleed but
he won’t feel.

 

His eyes are soulless
they are empty
so that this boy can hold the universe
in his coal-black eyes.