They swear they want me, give me less,
They speak of love, then count the cost.
They want my body, time, and heat,
But never risk a thing they’ve got.
They call devotion what they feel,
Then make me carry all the weight.
They want a place inside my life,
But never build the door I need.
And men who barely know my name
Will move with purpose when I’m low.
They ask what makes the silence lift,
Then give without demanding more.
They answer things I never asked,
They learn the details lovers miss.
They make a problem disappear,
As if my comfort mattered most.
How brutal is the simple fact:
The men who want me offer less.
The men who ask for nothing back
Devote themselves to give me peace.
How Brutal is The Simple Fact
© Copyright: Староминскаяя, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126092108257
Свидетельство о публикации №126092108257
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