A beautiful starry night
But it doesn't compare to you
If you weren't here by my side
I don't know what I would do
The couples walking, holding hands
They do not look at us
Music softly fills their ears,
The world around them flush.
And now we are one of them,
Together so alone
Be it empty fields of grass
Or crowded cobblestone
I needed you here by my side,
Your innocent sweet blush
When you left I all but died,
Now I return to dust
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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