You are every man. Every man that has stepped into my life, every man that has walked out of it. You are my father, the expector and protector. You are my brother, the confidant and co-conspirator. You are my son, the eyes I look into and to whom I will always reassure my loyalty. You are my friend, my lover, my triumph and my heartbreak. You are my burden and he who carries my burdens. You are my hurt and my heart. You kill me and you give me life. You are my Prince Charming, my endless chase. My carriage at midnight and the pumpkin I’m left with. You are the hero I strove for and the loser I waited for. You are the scars in my skin, the ache in my soul. You are the smile spreading ‘cross my face, the sparkle in my eye, the shiver up my spine. You are the pounding in my chest and the breath that soothes the fear. You are the tears on my cheeks and the shaking in my knees, the sweat in my palms and the crack in my voice. You are my guiding light, my shot in the dark. You are my rainbow across the overcast sky in a world that doesn’t believe in wishes, but I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you, my man of many men, my one-in-a-million.
I wrote this a few months ago, and wanted to expand on it. I’m not sure where I was going with it, but I’m open to comments. Should this be a poem? I like it as a clumped piece, a lump of feels, so to speak. I sometimes take my writing and slap it on the screen or paper just to see what I’m working with. Sometimes it looks more appetizing than other pieces. This piece is like soup. It’s basic and usual for something I would have created, but maybe there’s a tasty surprise. Who knows?
Thanks for reading.