August 19 by The Running Son
Little miss V, RunningSon
would like to tell you: he is sorry.
Upon reading the final chat lines,
he sees he missed the small plea
to stop, smile, and listen quietly.
RunningSon didn’t look close enough
to see that you mirror him, reaching
out, so lonely at 29, or 17. Then,
really, the best way little Jimmie
knew was through intense pleading,
with bite, burning bridges and
disowning homes, giving in
and going it alone, way way too easy.
The RunningSon is concerned
for you, far beyond simple words.
He knows the depths of depression,
has for years—knows it hurts.
We say things we don’t mean,
scream them out hoping they’ll work.
But slowly, we encrust our hearts,
to keep free from pain, insulated
from the cold bite and hardness
of a seemingly too uncaring world.
Girl, you are pure starlight.
That is truth: will never change.
Love has been a hard fight
In every culture, every age.
Understanding is possible
between 2 trusting, willing souls.
Only love, and great bravery,
will defeat cold nights, and
by Jim Aldrich
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.