• For The Mothers of Men

    by  • March 5, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, To You • 0 Comments

    The person you made, from nothing, that was once your baby boy, is a man. Or a least in good progress of becoming one, in every sense of the word.
    He makes me feel like a woman. He is a respectful representation of the manners you’ve instilled in him over the years.
    He comes here between work and school to spend what little time he can in my arms, holding me, laying with me. He spares the time he can.
    He leaves me most nights after fighting our urge to cling to one another.
    He never skips a beat, we are on repeat, with the motions and the momentum.
    I am not an obligation or a priority. I never interfere at work or school. I don’t know his friends, outside of the few we share, and probably never will. We are a secret and he works, successfully, to maintain that, he does it well.
    When he goes he takes the fulfillment of every visit with him.
    I do not want to love your baby.
    I don’t want to fight for him.
    I don’t want to desire a place in his future.
    I am the marks on his neck, the hour between leaving work and making it home, the continuous attention to his phone. To my family he is a brief bi-nightly greeting, a nice young man, a face they recognize.
    Your boy is a man.
    With desire, and passion.
    A man of flesh and bone.

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