Why Men Cry in the Bathroom

For so many reasons.
I will tell you the why.
I think you know,
Or perhaps, you think you know.

Men are always O.K.,
Even when not.

We expect the worse,
Accept the worse,
Nonetheless,
We are forever unprepared.

Wearily, we cry,
In the bathroom, in private,
Lest sighs slip by,
We be unmasked,
Early warring, strife signs warning.

Copious, tho we weep
Before the mirror confessor,
It is relief untethered,
Unbinding of the feet,
An uncounting
Of beaded rosaries,
Of freshly fallen hail stones,
Of night times terrors
By dawn's early edition's light,
and welcomed.

But look for the mute tear,
The eye-cornered drop,
*** tat, that never drops,
But never ceases formation and
Reforming, over and over again,
In a state of perpetuity of reconstitution,

The tippy tear of an iceberg revealing,
And I see you peeping, wondering,
What is beneath

Look for:
the torn worm-eaten edges of spirit,
thrift shop bought, extra worn,
grieving lines neath the eyes,
where the salt has evaporated,
discolored the skin.
worry lines,
under and above,
browed mapped, furrowed boundaries.
the laugh line saga,
where better days are stored,
recalled, as well as recanted,
publicly, privately.

Why just men?

I don't know,
Perhaps,
it is all I know.


Jan 6, 2013

Putting mascara on the eyelashes below your iris,
is like making a promise to yourself that you won't cry today.
Sometimes it's a promise you keep.
Other times your tears run black with broken promises.

oh, oh,
you,
you made flowers grow in my lungs
-sweetheart, they’re so lovely,
but i cannot breathe.

ruby shards pierce my ears,
clear as glass, sharp as blades,
and you,
oh you,
are oceans away.

empty mornings,
late night smokes
-who i am i kidding
all i do is watch the clouds,
while you,
you,
are adrift.

i got the good side of things,
let your own heart bleed gold,
as i left in a tornado
of roses intertwined with a
soft musical song.

Well, I guess it's
just one of those nights
when I don't care if my batteries die
and I don’t switch on  
tomorrow.