i don't know exactly when

my father realized

life 

wasn't all he thought it would be

he quelled his disappointment with beer 

nightly

and often gave in to rage

and regurgitated that disappointment 

unto my mother

and myself

he preferred a backhand

but scars inside my mouth

and holes in the drywall

of my childhood home

prove otherwise

i don't know exactly when

my mother accepted

'I love you'

with less pleasure

and impetuous pain

in a lonely life 

she'd work herself to death for

i don't know exactly when

i started to carve out my own 

version of love

in the flesh of boys
in the soothing comfort it gave me 

in feeling their heat rising

and in my own euphoria 

from their touch

i made men ardent lovers
but kept my heart locked 

to keep earthed

all other emotions 

i would never again

let them steal from me

i don't know exactly when 

i put down all my armor 

and sat in the sun too long 

with you

i didn't notice the shriveling of me

like a raisin 

nor, did i notice 

the loss of life

until i was too broken

to fight

and i learned again 

that my body and soul 

and weary heart,

were merely casualties of life's  war

where,

pray
 as you might

God, 

never comes 

[... but he does.]

.j.