"Little Boy"

by Kristen Pesceone

The little boy across from me

Who really isn't that little
sinks down into himself

I'm not really sure, if he's satisfied

with his loneliness

he just stares out the window

or closes his eyes

he just pulls his hat down farther

over his

I want to pull him in
I want to make him mine
I want to, but I don't know what

he'll do

His head now rests on his hand
like the weight of the world

is on his mind

and I wonder, what's on his mind
Is he okay, with what he is

with who he is?

When he's alone
When he's not painting faces

I hope he's okay…