Feeling your distress
I cringe in pain.
You are hurting
and I can not help.
You try to hide it
behind a strained smile,
benumb it with activity,
or an insulate it with fat,
but you do not feel loved.
You dress to please & impress;
slinking in your high heals & short shorts,
or strutting in you bodacious beard & chains,
but love will not be bought.
As I see you trying to grasp happiness
in a multitude of ineffectual ways,
my heart aches.
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