Thomas Never

Thomas can't
really hear the music, but
while the party dances on, it
keeps on buzzing in his chest,
like hornets searching for his heart
and shaking everything beneath
his ribs.
Thomas can't
really breathe, not the same
thick air they do, even as he
settles in this lonely couch,
forgotten stains like yellow flesh
on faded white beneath
his fingertips.
Thomas thinks that maybe
he should go back where they are,
but he's afraid
their noise would chase away his soul
and twist his body inside-out,
so Thomas never does.

Thomas wants to ask them all:
    why are you so loud, and
    how can you be sure that
    what you're calling love
    is so,
    and in the night's dead stillness,
    have you ever felt that
    sorrow smolders in your bones,
    waiting soundlessly till it can
    burn through paper skin?
(Thomas thinks that someone, somewhere
has to have the answers)
--but when
his heart and mouth are open,
eyes and ears are always
so Thomas never does.


[written for class]
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