For you, Boy Born in Darkness.

Take me down, mis read fondness.
Cut me off at the knees.
Stab me with defensive words,
Bludgeon me, until those words bleed.
And then forgive me,
For showing you the blood on my hands.
Forgive me for not understanding
why actions mean less than wounds,
that are self inflicted
demonstrations.
Calculated beauty, in connection
even if poor sense of direction.
I say what I mean,
and I mean what I say.
Even if that means you choke.
Because if I don’t, all I have is flattery
and insincere kindness.
And you know,
Thats not how I show
care.