"At the comfortable glow from the porch, the one I will still call yours? All those words came undone and now I’m not the only one facing the ghosts."

All the colors

Of the rainbow
Hidden 'neath my skin
Hearts have colors
Don't we all know?
Red runs through our veins
Feel the fire burning up
Inspire me with blood
Of blue and green
I have hope
Inside is not a heart
But a kaleidoscope
-KALEIDOSCOPE HEART

THE LIGHTS

The outcasts walk slowly through the quiet night.

Air is thick with the blanket of winter.

They feel the wind whip at their face, icy slaps that sting and burn.

They are the outsiders. The lonely ones.

They are the spectators of the spectacular.

They are rejected. They are the lost.

Nighttime vagrants, wading through the darkness,

trying to find something.

Hopelessly searching.

For nothing will fill the deep gaping holes of lost love and lost innocence.

Dirty and unclean on the outside and the inside.

Slowly slowly slowly, wandering without purpose.

Past house after house after window after porch.

Knowing the glow from the windows are illuminating feelings that they will never again experience.

Happiness. Belonging. Warmth. Love. Security.

The lights are bright intruders in their dark world.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

This is what they know.

This is what they are.

This is all they deserve.

For the lost will remain irrecoverable.

The rejects will remain in despair.

The lonely will remain broken.

Tonight the lights are unbearable.

Tiny colorful bulbs illuminating complete and total failures.

Spots of hope in the night.

Out of reach.

Tonight the glow is brighter.

The feeling is total devastation.

Merry Christmas to the outcasts.