A Silent Retreat

I cry,

I cry in the shadows of light,

I cry in the pouring rain at night,

I don't feel alright,

I don't like to cry,

Yet I want to cry out loud,

like my wife, who gets to express invariably,

But I stand across in rage,

for I bear with the fear of tears rolling down her eyes,

I can't stand her tears,

I can't see her pain,

I fail to get through her emotions,

drowning down in her mind,

masculine rigidity, ruining my reign,

In the silent hours after my fiery blow,

I stand defeated,

staring at the shower,

to help me let down my manpower,

to cry out loud, singing in my loudest voice as a cover,

checking the bolted door twice to thrice out of horror,

a means of release, a silent grieve,

Please, don't scrub my back from behind,

I feel like I fail you every time,

the mere absence you feel beneath,

I don't know how to fulfill,

I try, I try, yet I could see myself winding down the line,

for I only know mother's love and nothing more,

answering her calls,

answering her years of sacrificed nights,

Don't be a mamma's boy, they said,

And I slowly recognize, my dear wife,

you are the only one with whom I can cry,

out loud in the open,

this vulnerability of mine,  a meaning you brought to a place of our own,

Let me cry,

allow me to cry,

I ask and I wait,

for every time you wait for my grant,

you blend along with my stance,

never for once did I wonder why,

but always a point of view in our fights,

I realize, for not once have you gone involuntarily, 

please, don't you fear to travel on your own,

don't your dare to let your dream fall from my groan,

Go to your home if you want,

stay as long as you enjoy,

and come back,

your home is us, where we belong,

You, the only one witnessing the versions of me, I see all along. 

I cry,

breaking down to your wounds,

I, now, start to own,

How much I wish for a change of tone,

But feast on my plate is the same odorless bone.