Have you ever seen the boy inside the man?
when he sleeps, he holds the pillow,
shoulders tucked, chin to chest
calves lay as though they were young, hairless
he speaks the truth when he's drowsy, innocent
things in a soft voice as he rubs his eyes and pouts
i'm tired
I see him as a little
boy whose legs don't
even touch the floor
hands so soft and damp
inside a man who
is so self-righteous
during the day.