Buried graves

He touches his forehead to mine for that’s his way of expressing love. 

He laughs a lot, dances like no one’s watching and tunelessly sings the perfect lyrics. 

But dad has taken him away from us to another city for reasons best known to him. 

Dad left him back with us, but he doesn't talk anymore, nor does he smile; he only stammers broken sentences. 

His scars say a lot but he is silent – what dad and the other city did to my younger brother will always be buried in a grave that we will never be able to find.