White Shirt

I remember the dance ...
The beer soaked red with tomato,
And the man who briefly stole me away,
Heady nights in brief flashing abstraction.

I remember the white shirt I wore,
And your words afterwards,
And my thoughts on how it must feel,
To see this man who dances with your girl.

And these days fly by,
Bitterness, anger, separation ...
They strain us,
Keep us farther apart.

In a world of no proof,
You shatter what can be,
You deny a happy light filled world,
And there's no excuse but your fear.

If but for one bleeding second,
You allowed it to enter,
You'd see that there is a home for you,
Safe, warm and welcoming.

There is a family used to struggle,
Used to the challenge and strange,
Used to overcoming bitter fruit,
Pulp made of lies and lies and lies.

I've been there,
You live there,
And you excuse yourself your freedom,
Thinking it impossible ... and so it remains ...

Until you find your balls and demand your happiness.

For my couch will always be available,
My heart and my bed are only for those with the courage to claim them.