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not a bitter declaration

I must be the most dangerous
man in the world.
I could never have given
up
as easily as
you have.
Instead
I
saw
through
the veil, behind
the mask.
This isn’t a bitter declaration.
This is me saying
I understand.

I held love to your throat
and threatened
the murder
of your cautiousness
and doubts
and fears -
a veritable genocide of your barriers.
Your discontent
kneed me in the balls
and took
to the hills
for safety,
to the shelter of ruthless
vigilance
for battered
false prides
where you studied
the religion of apathy,
picking out new
masks,
veils,
building up new
walls and
barriers.

For someone who loves the world
so much
you sure can’t understand
it,

for someone who has so much love
to give
you sure can’t receive
it,

for someone who enjoys hearing
the opinions of others
and partaking in
conversations of all kinds
you sure
run away
from the ones
directed at you,

for someone who cares so much
and holds great passion
and convictions
you sure have
little patience
for those who
care for you,

for someone with such a beautiful
heart
you sure have
an ugly representation
of
yourself,

for someone who believes every attraction
earned
was due to some
physical tease
you surely believed it more
than
I did,

for someone who claims to be
unafraid
you sure ran away
faster
than the time it took
to remain
my
friend.

This isn’t a bitter declaration.
This is me saying
I understand.
I’m sorry but
this judgment
is final.

This piece hit me in the guts. I feel like both the writer & the subject. Your deft manipulation of words is beautiful to behold. Thank you.

Thank you. I usually aim somewhere around the mid-section, but I know that often it hits unintentionally below the belt.

The impact probably wouldn't be so intense if it had hit below the belt in my case. You see, I am a eunuch. Had I balls I'm sure that's where the blow would have fallen, & I'd be writhing in front of my computer, cursing your name.

<3

Eunuch, eh? Well, it's good to know that eunuchs too have hearts.

Eunuchs have sleeves made of hearts.

What I like about this piece is the irony of the title.
Juan

I can see how one might view this piece as bitter. That's why I had to make it clear that there was no bitterness involved. No irony here.