Untitled

I worry about you
little boy image of me.
Though I guess at this age,
I can't call you little boy anymore.

You are always shaggy and unkempt,
and yes, this can be excused with your tender teenage years,
but your eyes have a look I recognize and know all too well.
It's the look that scares me when I peer into the woman in the mirror.
They are the eyes of someone I pretend not to be,
and someone I tried to hide from you.

That look on your face,
that sweet face that resembles my own so much.
The outbursts for attention.
"Love me. Please, love me,"
your eyes scream.

I understand my dear child,
who is not my own child,
but I certainly wish you were.

I can recount your whole life.
You kept me sane in a chaotic adolescence.

At 2 years old,
headbanging in the back seat
to old classic rock songs,
while big sis took me to school.
If I turned the song you liked,
you'd kick the back of my chair until I flipped it back.
I've changed so many of your diapers,
watched you so many times while you slept,
holding you close and rubbing your back as you cried,
cleaned so many scraped knees and banged elbows,
that I feel I own you.
Maybe I owe you.

Now you are too old to let me hold you
when you are upset.
You are stuck in a hurricane of a home,
and always scared of what the storm may fling towards you-
be it death or domestic dispute
or just general anger and frustration
projected upon your slim boy shoulders.

It is not fair, my dear heart,
that you have to leave home to feel safe.
It's not right that you have to play man of the house,
because you learned at far too young of an age
that some women need more love than it is possible to give.

I see how this wears you down little man.
You sleep on couches of family members.
You are torn between the way it was
and wanting to make her happy.
You lack the experience needed to know-
you can't do that for her.

So little boy/man,
when you show up on my doorstep,
young enough to forget to brush your teeth,
but old enough to have questions about dating etiquette,
at 7 am on a Saturday-
Don't fret.
I'll always let you in.