Boys who storm off in the middle of a fight,
trembling, hardly holding on to themselves,
wrench the door open,
jab at the elevator button, four times,
before storming down the stairs
with eyes flashing and lips
mashed tightly
and every step a thunderclap.
Till they reach the second last flight of stairs
and the rage seems
to drain out
like a pricked balloon
and they lean on the wall,
both palms on their face
before slicking back their hair
And start trudging back up
Through the door they had abandoned
to where she's still staring
at the wall,
and say, still gruff, still not giving, but here.
" I'm not leaving."
Here's to the men who stay.
