they like to say that "men" do not cry
so what makes a man?
is it the boom of his voice?
is it strut in his step?
the depth of his wallet?
or the bulk of his biceps?
or is it none of these things
perhaps it's the solitary tear
that rolls down a lonely cheek
and is quickly and silently wiped away
before anyone has the chance to question
masculinity

my feet tap
anxiously
expressing the emotion i'm so
dutifully holding back

makeup
hair
the whole sha-bang

the music blasts
we smile
we laugh
we're going out tonight

sometimes i wish
well, don't we all?
for a house
or a pony
or perhaps something small
but, i will wish, oh i wish
for that one soft, sweet kiss
and for you
just to show me you care

Only yesterday
Did I get to know your heartbeat
Only today
Did I become familiar with your breath
In
And out
A stable, rhythmic second hand
On the clock of our time together.
And tonight I will learn
Just how perfectly our bodies become one
But that second hand keeps ticking
Who knows how long it will last