Broken Boys By Clayton Conley “Try to be like other boys” I hear repeated By myself to myself— An incantation “Try to be like other boys” Wrap yourself in That code-switched language of Tits and trucks “Try to love like other boys” Learn to hold An entire broken emotional world Behind your tongue But you—your self— Cannot break Do not crack yourself open Even for a moment “Try to love like other boys” As you grow older Though you may learn to love others You will still struggle With loving yourself But while you grow older This love also ages Let its flavors grow complex And savor Its bittersweet sadness Delicious to hold But difficult on the tongue For too long Let it kiss you tenderly Even in public Let it hold you tightly While others watch
Let it tell you stories Of women who Ran away from hell And looked back Only to be turned to a Salt that never Once lost its savor though still Trampled by men Oh and there will be men: Men who would Use you as mirrors for their Lust to belong “Try to be like other boys” Men who would Rather see your naked body Than your naked self “Try to love like other boys” Men who would Be practiced in the art of Trickle-down trauma Oh and there will be men: Men who would Rather run without looking back And so lose their savor Though They may Not feel Trampled These men with Broken tongues And half hearts Cannot taste That aged flavor Of being A broken boy who looked back At his hell Of trying to be like other boys