He comes to her
when he is tired of the world
and rests his head
on her lap
expecting her
to caress and adore,

if she would
only
run her fingers
across his hair
and lightly
kiss him, casually
on his hair, or his forehead
and murmur words of love.

if she would only
tell him
it will be fine,
I am here, always,
by your side,
give me
your worries
make your pains mine,
I am yours, yours,
I will take it all...

But she doesn't
Because she
Is not a toilet paper,
or a teddy bear
or God.
She is not yours
to steal energy from
to empty her in return
every time,
as a compliment to her love.

You were not
there
when she cried
at nights,
waiting for you
to come.
You were not there
when she faced It All.
Her pillow
has been her friend,
her God
has been her savior.
A hope
has kept her alive
that she can get over you
some time.

So when you come
again
you expect her
to be the same.

She is not, however,
someone you can ****
to relieve your worries.
Someone you can buy dreams from.
Someone you can play with
like that.
She is not a doll
not a dog
not a toy, please.