and call it being afraid of commitment and
addicted to chasing less.

They crucify me for not being a fan of their
pick.

Yet,

when I am the prisoner of the friend-zone
and proclaim that I am being overlooked,

they tell me to grow up and accept the fact
that she doesn’t want me.

She says, “I don’t want a relationship,” yet
texts me the sweetest words,

luring me to invest quality time and

occasionally brush her lips against mine.

I am supposed to see those things as
nothing, recognize those actions filled with
interest and those misleading behavior as
friendship events.

How easy it is to believe that a man in the
friend-zone is on his way to becoming a
predator, while the man who guards the
friend-zone is meant to be her prey?

He does not see you as his
conquest.

To him,

you are not land to colonize and
leave in poor condition

to forever be a slave to his touch,
under the occupation of his lies.

There are no oppressive tactics
hidden in his words.

He is here to honor your roots,

find beauty in your culture and
become loyal to the queen in you.

“There are kings in the deck.”

“How did we fall out of love?”

she asked.

“The same way ashes are made,” I
replied.

“We never fed our flames.”

The beautiful words that swim out of his
crooked teeth are not the words of a
crook.

They do not come from a crooked heart;

they are perfect words floating their way
out of the mouth of the imperfect.

They are words of a sinner with a pure
heart and good intentions.

You are a woman’s prayer,

the miracle she patiently waits for,

the priceless reward that she will
never give away.

Your love for her will be cherished,

you cheering her on will be more
than proof to her eyes that you are
here to build.

She will not betray you,

she will honor every bit of you,

she will not condemn you for things
you aren’t blameworthy of.

To let the bad you’ve tasted take
this truth away from you,

is to be deceived.

Here you are, trying to convince me
that not trusting easily is the
devil’s hold on what we have, yet
your words slowly became the very
image of why I am slow to trust.

“Lucifer, the angel.”

Let me be the simp who commits,

the punk who is loyal,

the guy who is affectionate,

the softy who cries,

the stupid who is vulnerable,

the holier than thou who is
monogamous.

Let me be whatever your fear and
ignorance gives name to.

Call me whatever gives rest to your
misery,

It is not strong enough to stop me
from loving being in love and
becoming a loving man.

You are not any less special for
being a man.

Women are magical; but you too,
my friend, are a miracle this world
needs.

The existence of the moon is as
important as the existence of the
sun,

the soil has no more importance
than the flower,

your hand has no more importance
than your arm.

Men and women are blessings in
their own ways.