I have a yay! idea for where this is going! Wheee! So it has been a bit re-done.

Don't

I

So

Certainly

Long to

Acquire the

Incredible

Movie

Entitled "Newsies"

Right now!

I don't cry often. Maybe once or twice every year. I don't cry often at all, not like I used to.

Three times this week, my pillow's been wet when I fell asleep.

Every night, the tales you tell. The grins, the jokes, the laughter, the teasing. The stories you bring about this new girl, or that old one. The waitress at Tibby's, the stagehand at Medda's. Each name a blow. Someday, you will knock me down.

I see you flirting on the street. I see you remembering. I see you happy with your life, happy with the girls who so freely give themselves to you.

There are other things, I long to tell you. There are other things than love. There are sunsets, and smiles, and good food, and stories. There are friends, and fights, and games, and dances. There are other things, I tell myself. There are other things than love.

I stay, like a faithful servant, and take the punishment you unknowingly dole out to me. I let the blows rain down, accepting them as part of me. I do not run, I do not fight. I do not try to take the pain away.

I don't know why I love you. There are a million reasons, and none of them good. I don't know why I take the beatings, the abuse. I don't know why, but I will continue until I am too hurt to feel the impact of each blow.

I don't cry often. Maybe once or twice every year. I don't cry often at all, not like I used to.

Only fools cry.