The broken men

Just my luck,
To run into men after men,
Broken and scarred.

She caused the damage - irreparable, perhaps indefinite,
And here I deal with the charred remains.

Thank you.

When it comes to coping, men are little oysters.

No, not for the pearls of wisdom.
They clamp down and the only one who can open them up again, is Wonder Woman.

Just my luck that I am not Wonder Woman.

However, I do what I do.
I sit with them and watch them shiver,
I sit with them and hear the sobs they never let out,
I sit with them and wonder how they were before pain reshaped them.
All this while, I stand with them.

But they don't see me.
Emotion and attachment replaced by trepidation.
They are afraid of feeling,
Of moments of love coupled with pain,
Of feeling human again,
Of caring.

What a pity.

They are not bad people, these men,
Joined back together by Quick Fix,
In a hurry to not fall apart.
However, the pieces don't match anymore,
Leaving cracks and awkward crannies in between.

They don't function anymore.
After all, their warranty expired when the light in their hearts went out.