There are some brilliant songs out there written by men with tender hearts. Those songs can only be written by men who truly love women, and are written because there are women. Inspiration. We need you. They write songs about you, the kinds of songs that make us want to barricade ourselves indoors with the one we love and we don’t want to leave. But sometimes we left before, and for good reason, and sometimes we must again. We watch the bright lights come through the raindrop covered windows, and cast fantastic shadows upon the walls, crawling high to the ceiling and then disappearing while we look at you in wonder and we wonder at the simple things. Love does that to men. Music seems richer, life seem stronger, and love seems in endless supply. We go for walks in the rain. A stream of light ripples along the puddles of some old road and flashes themselves against the brightness of your wild, eyes. The burst of your smile makes our joy rise higher than the stars. Discovering the richness of your mouth and feeling the sensuousness of those lips is like knowing the secret, reddened depths of jasper. Discovering the joy inside your spirit is like finding rain for the first time upon our flesh. And in the stillness perhaps we reveal to you great lies or deep truths. If we are real, we will confess about the grief we have for dying or dead men, and the way we feel broken within. If we know you well enough, you’ll know about men who went berserk, and those who broke, or about another dead patrolman, or sometimes how we feel like failures. Perhaps you’ll struggle to translate into words the pain that is in our eyes. If we can dream again we may tell you how it’s likely going to be about you. We need you. Heaven is closer next to you. Grief for dying men whose bosoms carried our dying hope, sometimes we are dying too. Perhaps your face cries with compassion for us, for the things we did, and for the things that were done to us. We are men. Without you how could we otherwise know what we are?
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