I used to know every sound you made in your sleep, so tell me who's this stranger next to me?? Not a word spoken in days. Such a routine. One kiss good morning and two kisses goodnight. Farthest moments I've ever had to endure. It's the last remaining vindication that we even know each other exist. The thought I thought a thousand times never seems to reach your mind. One brief foot brush makes my heart skip a beat. Is this what we've come too?? Yearning for elementary indications of love?? Well it's time for the bell to ring at the end of the school day. I'm ready to rush back to the familiar. I can't take one more night. Lets make sure we fight for all that we lead with. Cause one more day may be one day too far.
It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...
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