In day, the people in the street
carry their shoulders weighed by burdens.
And their eyes- so condemning-
restrict us to the evening shadows,
away from the daylight that binds our hearts
in chains.
I try to send a secret assurance
hidden in the politest of smiles,
till I see the light in your eyes
darken with regret,
and something breaks inside me.
And so I long for nightfall,
when darkness covers our faces,
it hides the scars of worry
that the world has cut into your brow,
and the sleepless blue that bruises
the skin under your eyes.
In shade and quite I cry out,
in passion and in lust,
to bury the doubt that rises
when the whispers of the walls tell me
that real men don't cry at all.
So I ask only that we be judged as lovers-
and not as men.
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