you're a lucky man, my son.

he's a lucky man.

is he?

they say that all the time.

ever noticed?

but heads will roll

away all the time

turn your face from me.

no.

but darting glances.

are there question marks above missed chances?

thanks for letting me borrow the expression.

thanks for letting me bury my confession.

it seems a kind word and a soft touch is…

foreign

like a dying breed

on the extinction list

dear darling girl,

take all of your anxieties and misconceptions about yourself and bury them.

throw them to the wind.

because you were always chosen over that one.

over this one.

it's my secret.

the secret that i know.

it's the simple fact that you will always be the belle of the ball.

there will always be your figure casting shadows on the wall

you will always be one of the faces

one of the names of the voices in the back of my head

and i will walk around unsure

pretending to be very sure

that he's a lucky man.

is he?