Work Text:
When his eyes go soft
The battle fading
As if marching away
When he looks at me
It’s surrender in reign
Command is mine
Obedience is voluntary
Agency floods his eyes
Like a deflowered infusion
That was always there
Though he couldn’t see it
Awareness without Acceptance
Is like swallowing thorns
I stick my hand in his tender places
And help rekindle what was shorn
Somethings require patience and trust
Whether a man is made or born.