Orphan

The orphan boy longs for family. For genes and thick blood. Surrounded by empty chairs. A cardboard family devised in somewhere in Hollywood lingers in the boys bones.

In a cold world, mothers care, applying plasters to wounds and fathers help sons with money and romance.

Orphan boy exists between drowning and floating. Orphan boy does not know love, not from humans, not a loving touch nor word, only the sun which warms his face. He hears of love, that dictated by the loved in a loved world. In fairytales, this boy is not saved but trapped in a scary forest.
Can you be kidnapped if you do not have a family? You aren’t really stealing from anybody. Are you unwanted because you are alone? Or are you so special that your parents couldn’t handle your magic? Are you unloved because of your stupidity, your stupid voice, the stupid things you think? Maybe somewhere somebody is waiting, like a dripping tap, they are in agony, waiting for their orphan boy to return and to shower him in warmth and will hold him while he sleeps and look at him and tell him jokes, wash his hair, dry him, cut his little nails.

Orphan boy runs faster than his body, faster than the moon.

He focuses his love on the mind, not just beautiful colours but their definitions and reason, not animals but anatomy.

If mouths cannot be used to speak, at least they can be used to breathe, if hearts cannot be used to love, at least they can learn how to pretend.