Feint Finer Feelings Poem by Andy Brookes

should I go all noble and say it doesn't matter,
look you in the eye at the point of sale,
deep blue oceans and say it's fine. I'm fine, your fine, we're fine

then walk away without stiffness, which surely,
as the day is wet and grey, will give me away.
show no slouching shoulder but soft flexed, an uncaring illusion.
saying it's all fine, your fine, I'm fine, we're fine

not letting you see the tears, big boys don't cry, but they do,
and the internal strain breaks them, cracks their hearts,
shattering like brittle cast iron.
but they say, I say, it's all fine, your fine, I'm fine, we're fine
and smile at your tender concerned look.
a mixture of anguish, guilt and pity,
which kills with gentle kindness.

big boys don't cry but they long to to melt
sag and fall on knees, begging, to grovel and say don't leave
instead they say, I say, it's all fine, your fine, I'm fine, we're fine, and walk away.