Boys
Ask me
Why I can’t cook
And keep a house
And I tell them
My mother
Spent my childhood
Teaching me
What it meant
To be a bigger
Man than
Even they
Learned to be

Nightmares hurt.
The emotional pain,
and the physical pain.
I can't count
how many times
I've woken up
to be
haunted by
my own
mind
and what
I think of.
I can't even
imagine
the times
I've woken up
with a
headache,
a heartache,
or both.
I can't begin
to reason
why my mind
has such a
vivid
perception
of what
a gunshot
feels like.
Or what
drowning
would be like.
But I've
dreamed them
so many
times,
It feels
like I've
lived them.
And please don't think
for a second
that's every
night.
There are the
good dreams
too.
The happy ones
where
everything
is alright.
But those hurt
way more.
Because
when I wake up,
I can
feel them being
torn away
by Morning.

You have never failed to get my every day fired up,

Thirsty and longing for your company and hugs,

No idea how you could effortlessly reach to my heart,

And now I can't stop myself from wanting you so much.