Men Don't Cry
A microfiction piece about a poem
"Yellow on the river,
Golden in my eyes."
"And what is this about?" a low voice growled, slapping a newspaper down on the table.
The boy at the table, slim by all measures and sickly by others, quietly folded his hands in his lap. The yellow light made the room jaundiced, like his father's skin when he got too angry.
"It's a poem."
A lion's paw of a hand cracked across his face.
"I'm not stupid, boy, I can see what it is. What I wanna know is why my son's name is on such a sissy piece of shit."
"Delicate like untouched skin,
Bold as sunlight, as a kiss."
Damien fiddled with the thin, fraying edge of his dark grey sweater.
"Answer me!" his father shouted.
The thick hand fisted into his collar and yanked him up hard, leaving his polished dress shoes to scuff across the pale linoleum.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whimpered. "There was a daisy on the river. I thought it looked pretty."
"Lovely in the water,
Prettier on his lips."
"So you thought it alright to prance your prissy ass all across the page like this?" He rubbed the print across Damien's face, smearing ink across his skin as though he were a dog in need of training. "That's my name up there, boy. And no son of mine is going to...to shit all over my legacy like this."
"It was supposed to be anonymous," Damien whispered, his scared breath puffing out quickly.
His father stopped.
The paper fell to the floor, discarded and forgotten.
"You knew I wouldn't approve," the man snarled. The snap of his pocketknife widened Damien's eyes.
"No. Please. Please."
"You beg like a whore," his father whispered. "Loud, with tears on your face."
A breeze, warm and humid from the southern summer, blew in through the screened window. The tears on his cheeks cooled as his eyes widened.
Men didn't cry.
"A romantic world lives downstream.
How I wish to follow the flower."
Another crack against his cheek, this time hitting with less precision and splitting his lip. The knife followed, cutting a shallow mark across his face as he pulled away.
"Get out."
Damien hit the ground hard as his father dropped him. Muddied boots stomped closer, stopping just below his chin. His wallet hit the ground between the boots.
"Go follow your stupid flower."
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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Very well written. Keep up the good work!
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Heartfelt and relatable
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Comments (21)
Poor kid hopefully finds peace
He..I had Swedish spell check on
Ah, I wanna sock that miserable cur right in the pipes! Je will be the one crying then!
Terrible thing to be misunderstood. We fear what we don't understand. Pity the brutes and hope they learn. Beautifully written. Congrats.
Congratulations on top story!! Incredibly written! 💌🥳🎉🥳🎉
Incredible.
Wow! The way you sandwiched the beauty and innocence of the poem between the horror and cruelty of reality is both tragic and lovely. Great work!
This is too realistic and scary, I appreciate your honest prose and very beautiful poetry, I am sorry for the son though
Oh I wish this kid all the luck.
Wow! I got so many different feelings from this. I just want to reach out and tell the boy "KEEP WRITING" Screw your dad! He probably can't even spell P O E M. That last line punched me in the gut. It's a clear example of being non-acceptant. Awesome work!!! you really are a deep thinker, and it shows.
This piece shattered me in the way only real, raw, poignant writing can. Your words break my heart for the poet and bring me to feel contempt, anger, and bitterness for the father. Power writing deserving of the Top Story — and further publication. Congratulations 🥳🤩⭐️
Woohoo Silver! Congrats on this getting a fantastically deserved Top Story!
This is unbelievably painful, and deeply effective. Thank you for sharing this story- oh how I wish it were not so representative of reality. I think the world is bettered for you talking about it, though.
i love it, sometimes childhood dreams shatter in a blink, a comment could damage something soo pure. looking forward to reading more
This is worth reading more than once. Great writing with powerful emotions.
This is a powerful, painful narrative. May every Damien derive consolation from it.
Wow. Brutal story wrapped around such a delicately beautiful poem. Outstanding work. Congrats on the TS.
This is beautiful and painful and raw and guarded. You take us to such a scary place but also show us such a beautiful escape- and give us hope for that child. Beautifully done.
Well that was DEVESTATING, Silver! The poem was downright beautiful, and that absolute animal of a father should have been able to see that. Toxic masculinity really is the bane of us all, affecting all people of every identity. Terrible thing. Crying isn't something I'm fond of, not for the standard reasons you understand. More like, it's an escelatory thing, makes whatever I'm feeling more powerful rather than sooth it. Weird thing that. My therapist says it's uncommon but normal. Who knows? This story on the other hand, was a work of F***ing art! I loved every scene, from the opening lines to the final, horrible utterance of the pig of a father. Beautiful work, mate! Simply out fucking standing!
You weave the story around the poem so well! Amazing writing, as always.
Incredible micro, Silver! Your prose blends with poetry so wonderfully! The cruelty of the father juxtaposed with the beautiful sentimentality of the poem was jarring! The yellow light descriptor and the comparison of the father’s hand as a lion’s paw were so well done and really built up the father’s brutality