His been in my dreams lately. A lost boy of my youth.
I can clearly see his olive skin and dark floppy hair with the piercing light eyes that showed a life that had already seen to much, been through too much.
A soul that was lost before it was given a chance.
My heart aches to believe that circumstances changed but brain knows that once lost many choose to stay lost. It’s easier to be lost then to find a way out, a way to be found.
His eyes haunt me in my dreams begging me to see, to remember.
Remember I do. The piercing eyes, hidden behind the overgrown dark hair. The long and lanky limbs that could be both awkward in movement but comforting in familiarity. The ache to be loved and cared for, to be seen as normal through the outward coverings of different.
I wonder what happened to him. The tween years are unkind. I want to believe that age and knowledge changed his circumstances. I want to believe that he grew into the man you could see behind those piercing eyes, lost in the fog of circumstance.
My heart tells me to pray for the lost boy who visits my dreams. It’s so easy to remain lost, if lost is where you start and what you know.