the spirit recognizes,

and the naked eye will easily miss.

“War Zone”

I am slowly merging into the lane
that was created for me,

slowly detaching myself from my
past

and peeling off these callouses

over my heart.

Men, too, are caterpillars

becoming butterflies.

They grow wings

and later become lions

who refuse to be misled by pride
and hunted by their ego.

If I cannot be cherished by you,

I will not become a burden,

I will become a lost treasure.

If I cannot be a blessing to you,

I will not become a curse.

I will become absent.

Many men who seem to have it
together are slowly breaking down,
constantly adjusting their grip as
they try to hold on.

They live clueless of how to
undress their ego

and be welcoming to helping hands
that are dying to grab them and
help them pull themselves up.

These men have learned to walk
this earth alone,

a beautiful thing that carries ugly
outcomes when a dead end is
reached.

“We all need bridges.”

I hope one day we mourn the
innocence stolen from the minds of
boys before they knew how to write
their name properly.

I do not say this to throw pity parties,
I say this to address the elephant in the
room that is slowly leaving no room for
men to breathe.

I am talking about the double
standards that treat my brothers as
nothing, while everything they do
becomes something that needs to be
talked about and protested.

I want to apologize to the men

who the boy in me once mocked for
being too loving,

for holding onto their virginity,

for having pure hearts,

for valuing commitment,

for befriending vulnerability,

for being loyal to one woman.

Only tongues of fools discover
reasons to mock the softness of
men and love in their voices.

Don’t mistake him for the boys
who try to find their way between
your legs; boys whose hearts only
see you as a piece of meat from
their menu of lust,

the perfect side piece.

He, however, is a man who is
hunting for something different,

a man searching for the love in
your soul,

the softness in your smile,

the courage in your voice,

the freedom in your laugh,

the calm of your touch.

There are men who know when to
take it slow,

and men who know how to fake
their fall while their ten toes are
planted enough for them

to run away at any given time.

There are also men who cannot
keep themselves from indulging
when they find something good,
and some who know how to be

first obsessed,

then consistent with their
obsession.

Pace doesn’t reveal the heart,

only character.

He is the type of man who does not
allow words of life to stall in the
back of his throat until they grow
dry of meaning.

Men like him can see the lack of
kind and loving words that travel in
and out of mouths daily.

Therefore,

he is overly expressive,

consistent at compliments,
overflowing with affection on
purpose.

He is only trying to create a little
balance in this world by being the
type of man many women don’t get
a taste of.