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
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