Boys and Men!

I met a little boy once, and
He had the prettiest eyes I
Had ever seen, so I told him
So in as many words, and he
Looked up at me with anger
That belied his age and said,
“Boys aren’t pretty, girls are.”
That little boy grew up just
A bit, and could create magic
With a little bit of flour, and
A lot of skill, and when I asked
Him why he never took the
Cupcakes he baked for me on
Lazy Saturday afternoons, to
School for his friends to have,
He looked at me with scorn that
Flooded his eyes, and stung
Me, only to say, “Only girls bake,
I just do it for you.” Eventually,
He grew up into a young man,
And he fell in love with a woman
Who broke his heart, and I could
Hear him sobbing at night, and
The tear stained pillows left a
Trail of his pain in the laundry
Basket, and when I asked him if
I could ease it somehow, he
Lashed out at me, and said, “Men
Don’t cry, and you know that.”, I
Kept quiet, though his pain was
Mine, for I wasn’t supposed to
Question his ideas of what a boy,
Man, son, father, husband, friend,
Lover, uncle, were supposed to
Be, but I wish I could, because I
Could see the red gashes running
Up his thighs and wrists, and I
Knew before I asked him, that he’d
Say, “You’re silly. Men don’t get sad.”