Such a wonderful thing To stay up late for. To stay awake for. To stay trapped inside this moment Feeding on your foundation And living in that look on your face For.
My house is a closet And I spend my days peeking through the cracks In the door.
Trying to get out While you cling to the keys And lock me inside.
I am gay, bi, lesbian, lgbtq. I am not a title. I am love. People turn that into a terrible, *****, ugly thing. Why? Why does my love make you uneasy? And what gives you the right to have a say in it. It breaks my heart that people will discount me for such a lovely thing. I am not ashamed. I am not embarrassed. I am sad. And a bit alone.
It wasn’t going according to plan Because the plan was non-existent As I so wrongly thought That stumbling unprepared Was better than a thorough setup Bound to make one care Knowing that it never could Or would go anywhere