In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “My Hero.”
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
– Henry David Thoreau
I heard a rumor that you didn’t love like I did.
Your interests were elsewhere.
And your heart was satisfied by something different.
When I heard this, I made a terrible error,
believing that you didn’t want intimacy–
that you weren’t interested in love at all.
While this mistake never directly hurt you
and you had no way of knowing I felt this,
I still feel like I owe you an apology.
Your choices weren’t the greatest
and you were creating a lot of kinetic pain.
No one saw all of that was you shivering:
Your body begging for something to change.
Breaking the silence
you started making better choices,
accepting things you had once hated,
facing truths of which you had once been afraid.
Now you are stronger,
and I risk being judgmental in calling you better.
I hope your life from now on is far happier
than you ever dreamed it could be.
When you are old enough to legally drink
I’d like to come up to the land where other’s pump your gas
And pub hop with our mutual friends and lovers.
I’d like to see that smile I’ve seen face-to-face only once before,
to meet the man that brings that smile to your face each day
and to thank him for loving you as only he can do.
For now the things that make me proud to know you
are mostly rumors and hints I get from your regular posts,
so I am understandably eager to make this happen!