BoySlut

lonely soul
he stood a lone wolf alone
in the trees, there were no
she wolves that could soothe
away the pangs of his lonely –
they stung ever so sharply in
the winter; when the babes
were carried around him, he
was never accepted into the
folds of any pack; he was that
solitary purple cloud hanging
in an otherwise sky of azure
whose white clouds ousted
him from all the others, his
hearts psalms melancholy lilts
that not even ravens can echo.
– linda m. crate