<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=458406" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Men</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I was young, I used to<br>Watch behind the curtains<br>As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.<br>Young men sharp as mustard.<br>See them. Men are always<br>Going somewhere.<br>They knew I was there. Fifteen<br>Years old and starving for them.<br>Under my window, they would pauses,<br>Their shoulders high like the<br>Breasts of a young girl,<br>Jacket tails slapping over<br>Those behinds,<br>Men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One day they hold you in the<br>Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you<br>Were the last raw egg in the world. Then<br>They tighten up. Just a little. The<br>First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.<br>Soft into your defenselessness. A little<br>More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a<br>Smile that slides around the fear. When the<br>Air disappears,<br>Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,<br>Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.<br>It is your juice<br>That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.<br>When the earth rights itself again,<br>And taste tries to return to the tongue,<br>Your body has slammed shut. Forever.<br>No keys exist.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the window draws full upon<br>Your mind. There, just beyond<br>The sway of curtains, men walk.<br>Knowing something.<br>Going someplace.<br>But this time, I will simply<br>Stand and watch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Maybe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Maya+Angelou">Maya Angelou</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=458406" data-title="Men de Maya Angelou" data-description="When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men. Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always Going somewhere. They knew I was there. Fifteen Years old and starving for them. Un..."></div> </div> </div>

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