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
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.