The truth is I loved you, I dare you to remember
The truth is you hurt me, I dare you to share my pain
The truth is I wanted you back, I dare you to say the same
The truth is you never said sorry, l dare you to try
Your latest haircut denotes your status and style,
a thick velvet rope lifting makes your false smile.
Tattooed arms state, crazy child like charms,
draped laminate passes, a vacant call to arms.
Real Men cry for others, real men love their Mothers.
Real men stand for right, real men walk from a needless fight.
Real men live with respect, real men ponder and reflect.
Real men say what they mean, real men reject the obscene.
My head spins like a pirouetting ballet dancer
My wraith laments under a burden of piquant turmoil
My days are faltered and my sable minutes lay shattered and crushed
My masquerade contorts to whisperings of enraptured passions and trepidation
When the volume subsides and the last word is silence,
I still believe in love.
When the pressure in my head subsides and my breathing shallows,
what else remains?