he caresses every bottle
like it’s the first one he’s had
saying
it ain’t love
but it ain’t bad
it’s the only reward
bestowed upon me
and I have served faithfully

I can see he is scarred
from doing some hard time
but I let alone what is broken
’cause it isn’t mine
he strikes out at me
when I am within reach
then he reaches for me
when I draw the line

sometimes it seems like love
is just a fancy word for compromise
you gotta read between the years
you gotta write between the lines
you gotta try to understand
the grandness of the man behind the petty crimes
and let him off easy sometimes

I have only just met
an old old friend
we’ve been walking around holding hands
I hope some day he can bend
as far as it takes to understand
and risk breaking open again

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Beanyblogger.com