He sits with sadness in his eyes,
mercury-blue and moist,
no light shines on his face,
apart from the moon,
who cups his cheek,
from her perch in the sky,
she understands melancholy,
but he ignores her offer of help,
turning away from her slender illuminating fingers,
instead he pushes the pain down,
burying with the rest of his misery,
he shouldn’t show emotion or cry,
that’s not what men do,
how many times does he need to be told.

He takes a breath,
agitating the mercury with woollen sleeves,
he sweeps away the tears,
then paints a watercolour happiness over his face,
just in time, for his wife has returned to him,
and when she asks how he is,
in reply, with all his strength,
he let’s a tear fall and tells her how he feels.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I am big supporter of men’s mental health and this deals with men being able to open up to their partners.

Take It Easy,

Paul

(image courtesy of Nik Shuliahin on unsplash)