Ruffed up, that smoothed-lipped
gaping puppy maw
speckled with dirt and begging to cry out but never doing so
Those were the lips that he desired
Tossed aside, that feather-haired
long lion's mane
silky, shiny, soft, slippery always discarded in the dusk of life
That was the hair he itched to fix
Weighed down, those puppy-soft
gleaming darling eyes
the lashes clumped together with tears never meant to be shed
Those were the eyes he longed to dry
Oh that golden, splendid Johnny
So pure, so in need of protection,
so dire for existing
The thoughts of Dallas Winston, one proposes
Were to take the young, pure lad
into his scarred and scratched heart
to hold him in the embrace of lovers
to maybe find the Man He Wished to Be
With the Boy of Sixteen.
