A Broken Man.
Surges fill my Poetic needs as i close
through these rhythmic blues now
crimsoned with this skin of butter scotch hue.
Loving a broken man is a struggle;
through his actions and words there
is a power embroidered in his brain
reminding him of the past struggles
as he fought his way to attain freedom.
A seething character through his deeds;
a personality that exudes confidence
now a profession through his own arrogance.
Loving a broken man requires hard work.
A curvy hue often has to prove her love for him,
constantly struggle to understand his ways,
require his time and attention
like a closed battle of endurance.
Through his perception, he seeks loyalty
as he waits for trust before he gets
the pum pum with disdain; unaware that
trepidation is one of life’s ways.
Listening to a broken man’s confession after
months of lies and oppression is pathetic.
His words just flowing like a poetry session
through the floetic midnight passion.
A smear image with misconceptions and
lies with each word he says.
An attitude he has embraced over the years,
a hesitation to life’s givings embalmed with
trust issues- going somewhere, looking for something.
He always has a need to find himself.
But still through the spirals of life-
dynamics of love, he gives the best loving almost
for awhile…momentarily till he loses his mind
and lays hypnotized for awhile.
This time, with more sheer thoughts and fears
a confusion he embraces- afraid of what he feels,
creating a distance of sorts.
Loving a broken man is easy if it’s a soul that
understands why he’s man and knows the importance
of self healing, growth and forgiveness – not afraid of
his feelings and emotions- aware of his surroundings
and purpose in strength- an intelligence that is caressed
with good character and personality, empathy.
A man who knows his purpose and understands
the importance of being a man and the responsibilities
that come with it.
Picking the broken pieces, rebuilding himself-
Not afraid to rise, much stronger this time.