#poemadayfeb #14 - unless
For years, I have faked myself into loving the so called men,
Men with personalities as anemic as an abandoned tombstone,
Men with their souls covered in polished plywood,
so nobody could spot their gentle self,
unless they ripped them open,
And then you came along on a random winter afternoon,
You were oh so fragile,
Like a newborn,
And you took no time to prove,
How that defenceless, stark-naked heart of yours,
Was the manliest thing in the whole wide world,
That being a man wasn't an act of safe & calculated heroism,
But of an unclothed sense of vulnerability...
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