Like desperados and sons of bitches, he had said
and offers me a another shot of moonshine
I take it because I want him to know that I can hold my own
Even though, the epiphany came, months earlier and
I realize now that every man I've loved has hurt me in
one way or another
Every man I have loved was a flame,
yet I touched
Even though I was raped and emotionally starved
But my adoration for him is a thing undying
By God I would drink this whole jar of evil liquid just
to hear his wincing thoughts
I don't know what he hides,
but there are certain places in his house I am not allowed to go
and when I stay the night he locks my
door from the outside
It has crossed my mind that he is afraid that in a drunken stupor he may forget I
am there
Like the one night he almost shot his own son for fear he was a burglar
But I don't mind that, and in the end I am not scared of him
At times he can be so delicate, even though he despises
women and has crushed my heart on occasion
Except I know he loves me, because he had framed that
one picture of me
Said it was his favorite of all time
I was looking off into a field, my eyes knowing something
and he always said that that is who I really am and it's
a rare convenience that a photograph captured it
It makes me weak,
and I go home
Absolving him of all wrongs
I can
connect to this,
as I do to all of your poems,
especially, the ones where you are forgiving,
but not fading
you never fade away,
never mincing words when emotion is on the line
you like all great writers
are introspective,
and write like the reader I am sure that you are
as a man I can say, I think we men tend to bully love and don’t know enough about tenderness
Peace
Dylan
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot
Thank you. This piece is all
Thank you. This piece is all truth and especially important to me. Im honored as always by your amazing comments Dylan!
"It is a terrible thing to be so open. It is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world" -- Sylvia Plath.