a heart that you didn’t break

i was 5 years old the first time my heart broke.

i met a little girl who said her daddy was my daddy

and through a tear stained face, sitting at the dinner table

my mother said it was true.

but this was decades before you.

when i learned that even people outside my house knew

a lipstick stain from a dollar hoe on a collar ,

that was earlier ironed and starched by a loving wife

was enough to be the beginning of the end of a happy life

it broke a little more, from shame.

when i grew up and said i will

to someone i’m glad i wouldn’t

and i told my mother about the

naked photos of an uderaged and underdeveloped

friend of the family in my home

she told me about my grandfather.

of whom all she needed to mention was a korean saying roughly translating to:

“men like him would fuck a garbage can if it wore a dress”.

no matter if they married the best, it had no reference, in essence to their hunger

and i never saw safety in broad shoulders and beards as that was what requested i drop my pants

when i was a preschooler requesting if perchance to prance on the playground.

you see, these are the scenes that proceeded you in the molding of the image of men in my minds eye.

and i deeply apologize but i have a hard time with trust.

you see, it wasn’t enough you went to hell and back to show me the sincerity behind every word

to me it was simply absurd that one could be so … and here i lack a term for you.

i beg your pardon, but ive scoured jargons and it seems non can serve you

any justice.

it’s just, Us, the concept of perfect imperfection

was so hard to grasp

and all you asked was i let my guard down.

to sleep, knowing i’m safe and sound

with a man who’d bend over backwards to keep me safe.

but this was the last place i expected be.

when i sat on my ass, praying a prince would come for me,

i looked only for charm.

and so i was disarmed by your decorum so chocked full of chilvary, it shivered me.

the way you

didn’t skip a beat when my sister needed your help.

you  coulda have looked out for self

and focused on the copus amount of pleasure i was to give you

but you didn’t. you came to her rescue.

or the way you revere your mother like the queen she is

and still acknowledge that the time you give

her is but a pebble to the rock she’s been for you.

the way you won’t accept mediocrity in your work

so you stay up all night

just to make things right

and not for the money, but for the respect.

which ive noticed you impart to those who don’t even give it in return.

you see, i’ve had to re-learn the definition of a man

just standing here watching your day by day.

and it ain’t the money you make, your socio economic status

won’t have us determining your worth.

which is such that i’ll immortalize you if i can.

and if i could, give birth to a prince, i’d pray he be like my king.

baby the thing is, i came to you in pieces. shattered and broken and torn.

and again without warning, or request, you have begun to mend

a heart that you didn’t break.


3 thoughts on “a heart that you didn’t break

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