i’m convinced we let go
twice

once
in order to
leave ourselves broken
and alone
on a cold floor

till we flatline

then once more
to realize
we always were

broken
and alone

we
always
were

ironic
ain’t it?

it’s special
that kind of silence
somehow comforting
only after the eeriness
of no one caring
truly
sets in

and no one is supposed to

i was surprised to learn this

especially as a child

i learn it every day still

especially as a man

and you’re lucky
if momma does

some mommas don’t
some mommas can’t

yes
as a man
i must learn
to bloom

not only bloom
but to hide
the uglier colors
and only display
the primaries
the strong ones
the vividness of manliness

never my grays
and blacks
where i tend to color
most of my mind

i sometimes hate it
and sometimes i like it like that
there’s no lines
or borders i can’t cross
i’m not expected to be
good
at it

i’m asked to
handle things
and to listen
intently
while i can barely
handle the echoes
to begin with

nobody asks about those
nobody needs to
nobody should
not even momma

why would i worry her?
she’s the only one
ever around
when lingering drumming sounds
rise

it’d be nice to be asked
but a lot of things would be nice

and this silence is nice
sometimes

most of the time it ain’t
but i lay
alone
drama free
and no amount of company
can take that peace from me
or piece from me

givers give
and
takers take

beware the silence
that roams that
strong silhouette of his

for he definitely
opens up fully
to his shadows

and his shadows
really listen

he doesn’t have
to let go of them

they never leave
in fact
they’re his followers

and after a chat
and a quiet cry
he goes back

to momma
and no one else

as it should be

as it is
and
as it will be.

-melancholicreator