He refuses to be called a lover
It sounds too vague
Wants me to call him by his name
A name given to him by his mother
And he hates when I trace his eyes with my brush
Tells me that he has his father's eyes
Wishes he could erase them
The way he erased his father from them
And when we both drown in too many glasses of wine
He begins to tell me stories about his childhood
Family photos with his mother present in each one of them
His words drift in a spiral
Can't form proper sentences
But I can understand him
He talks about his mother with so much passion that words can't comprehend his emotions
And he smiles
He tells me that I smell like his mother
Soft as her
And he falls in love with a woman who isn't his mother
Just so he could feel safe
Between the arms of a stranger
And he hates the lines on his face
Says that he has his father's face
Wishes he could trade it
The way his father traded him for another son
But when I write about his smile
He glows with happiness
Because he has his mother's smile
And I wish he saw himself through my eyes
He looks nothing like his father
He's a whole man
Warm and soft
Just like his mother
Resilient and strong
Just like his mother
But he can’t detach himself from that man
Sees him every time he looks at himself
He tells me not to call him a father
Because it sounds too vague
Wants to be called by his name
A name given to him by his mother.