he caresses every bottle like it s the first one he s had saying it ain t love but it ain t bad it s the only reward bestowed upon me and i have served faithfully i can see he is scarred from doing some hard time but i let alone what is broken cause it isn t mine he strikes out at me when i am within reach then he reaches for me when i draw the line sometimes it seems like love is just a fancy word for compromise you gotta read between the years you gotta write between the lines you gotta try to understand the grandness of the man behind the petty crimes and let him off easy sometimes i have only just met an old old friend we ve been walking around holding hands i hope some day he can bend as far as it takes to understand and risk breaking open again