I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I'm gay
it kind of
spills off my tongue
when I don’t want it to
an
impulse
a
burning choke in my throat
falling out of me when I wish it would stay inside
when strangers are around
when
they really don’t need to know

it’s painted on my face
it’s written on the backs of my hands
my collarbone is burning white hot with a tell
and my eyes watering every secret of it

can they tell?
can everyone see right through me?
I’m
too scared to ask
somehow
also too scared to keep it inside

It wants out more than anything
but
she wants to be safe more than anything

Is God real?
This is a hard topic.
What is religion?
is it going to church every day,
praying every day,
not drinking, not smoking, no sin, no mistakes?
I used to think this,
but now I believe that it is whatever ever you believe,
many turn away from faith because they believe, no they fear they will not be able to live.
I believe there is a place where my grandfather rest along with my doggie,
I believe they are looking out for me while I wear this cross around my neck,
I believe they understand what I do and understand I'm a child,
That will make mistakes and needs to live,
I believe there is a higher up picking roses from a garden on earth to make his garden in heaven just a little bit brighter.
This is what I believe.
This is my religion.
It's not for everyone but some might just take a second thought to the things I have written about. Just maybe.

The wind is lifting me,
Like being plunged into the cool autumn sea,
The clouds are still a spectacle,
Whether black or pink or grey,
But the dwindling light,
And beige film,
Weigh on me,
And I'll yearn for heat spread thick across my back,
And blazing mornings filled with bird song,
But orange is a good colour,
For bodies pressed together,
And steaming drinks brought to noses,
And lips on cool, pink cheeks.

I remember gazing into the abyss of starlights and sequin sparkles of your dilated pupils;
I remember listening to your sweet singsong voice when you call for my presence.

I remember the feeling of your gentle strong hands at the sides of my waist;
I remember the smell of your lingering odour that inhabited my belongings.

I remember the taste of your sweetish lips locked against mine in that long awaited period;
I remember and know that you've kept me whole all this while, to lengths too perplexed to say--

that when you now only exist as a fair lone memory,
all my five senses have gone away.

I wish I had someone
I wish I had someone to run too
But now I am the last one
All alone
Everyone I know dead
So now I walk this path
All alone
And covered in ash.
Being last to live
Doesn't make you a survivor
It leaves you sad
And wanting more.
I am not a winner
I am a loser
For not dying with the rest