He hides in books and bitterness

Protests against loving attempts

With an ever-present, I’m not ready for This

His hurt is the hand he uses to push Them away

Meanwhile, inside

He craves and craves

A meaningful Love he shoves swiftly away

Has empty encounters that offer brief pleasures

But those kind of pleasures just evaporate

Afterward, so painfully aware

Of exactly What and How Much is not there

He can’t bear demands or needs or wants

Lays it all on the table at once

This won’t be what you want it to be

Don’t think you’re special

Don’t fall for me

Reverse psychology, They think

Except – um, Oops – he says what He means

That’s the Broken Man speaking

He told me the very same thing

The difference is I listen

I know that road is his to go

Maybe he’ll defeat The Thing inside who speaks

On the other hand

Maybe he’ll just listen…