I never told a man I loved him.
My father wouldn’t take such sissy talk,
it won’t becoming to admit to having
an emotion toward another man.
He would’ve thought it improper, not right.
Love’s a word confined to the bedroom
only then used to get her clothes off.
But my father never ran with you,
felt the strength in your arm or the fire in your grip
I fell off my horse and you pulled me onto yours.
He never feared every sound by night,
hoof beat in the distance,
gunshot in the morning’s light.
Mayhap I love you, Billy,
much as one man can another.
And I’d die for you, Billy,
it was up to me.
But it ain’t up to me
it’s awful hard to protect you
it’s my finger on the trigger
my eye through the sights.
But I still love you.
So much so no one else
have the right
kill yo
