Can you tell me what remains
When one is tired of life and tired of living
What hope is left when all love brings is pain?
What good comes from the mind
That feels no remorse from a thousand injuries past
How one can love with fragments of a broken heart?
Tears of misery pour down
From sadden lakes of pain and fall like shards of glass upon my soul
Piercing through the flesh of time and come to rest in loneliness
Can you tell me
When the rain will end and the sun shine bright once more
When sleep will come and memories of grief
Will no longer be the bearer of the insomnia of life?
Can you tell me
When suffering ceases to be my only best friend
Where the green grass grows and where rivers of joy
Flow silently into the horizon and darkness shall be no more?

We're at a crossroads ~
The path ahead is frighteningly unfamiliar ~
I may leave you standing here ~
I can't keep waiting for you to make up your mind ~
Because the pain, love ~
It stabs at my delicate skin ~
It tears out my too human heart ~
I was ready to walk with you ~
Now I just want to walk ~
We're at a crossroads ~
And you still ~ don't know which path to take ~

Copyright © Tia Jane Fajardo

If I wasn't gay would people care?
Would they actually let me breath the same air?
Could I actually go to school,
without people being so cruel?
Could I live in a world with no hate?
Maybe people would love me if I was straight.
It's not as easy as people think.
I can't just go to a shrink.
I didn't choose to be this way.
You really think I'd want to be gay?
I don't want attention,
I don't want fame.
This isn't some sort of game.
I am who I am and thats okay.
Most people don't see it that way.
I only wish I could be the same.
To have a wedding and it not be shamed.
I want to have kids and not be judged.
I don't want my reputation smudged.
But apparently I'm different now.
Sick in the head somehow.
Therapy and shock treatment for something that can't be fixed.
How did I get put into this mix?
Toxic and tragic,
that's my life.  
It's like I was stabbed in the back with a knife.
I'm gay,
what's wrong with that?
I get treated like some rat.
Using your holy books and your religion.
To fight against something that makes no difference.
I want to be a human not a punching bag.
Always getting called a ***.
Let that word have power and it gets to you.
But that words as good as whatever is stuck to the bottom of my shoe.
I love being this way.
I don't care what you say.

The tide comes in
       The tide goes out
The sun goes up
       The sun goes down
The moon will wax
       The moon will wane
The life will live
        The life will die
The sad girl will be sad
        The sad girl will stay sad

Some things are just constant

I go out to dinner with a near stranger
we sit on the same side of the booth and
I think about how you're the only one who
knows how much I hate that

I drink a drink with ***** and lime and
***** and it almost makes me feel like
I know who I am when I'm with someone else

I don't think of you often but last night I did
I remembered how your arms are the
only place where I am not self-conscious

I lie next to him on my balcony and
there are a lot of stars above us but
I'm the only one who notices

he is thinking about what I look like naked and
I'm counting how many hours of sleep
I will get if he leaves before 2

there is not an absence of feeling,
just a different kind than I'm used to
he touches my hand and I smile in
a way that doesn't feel forced

I spend a day with a near stranger and realize
there is so much he does not know about me,
so much he doesn't care to

like how I got my nose pierced at 14 or
the amount of time I spend in the mirror each morning
picking myself into something I can carry only semi-confidently

he only learns I can't ride a bike when he asks if I want to
he has no idea that my blonde is shielding a deep brown or
when I got the freckle above my lip or
the inch long scar underneath my chin

he doesn't care and that's okay
when he leaves we say I miss you but
in a different way than I'm used to

it is not a pain swelling to be morphined
nor is it a pulling from the gut but instead
it is the ever temporary desire to fill the excess lonely

we say I miss you and still mean it but
it is not the missing that a body feels for
a phantom limb

I am with him now and probably will be again but
moving on doesn't mean I don't miss you
it only means I'm trying not to

just because I'm all right doesn't mean
I don't wonder how you are
I can still be happy with the existence of a quiet ache

but yes I do
miss you,
I will until the day I can sleep without having to count sheep
I will miss you even if there are no stars in the sky to remind me

I don't think of you but last night I did
the moon was too bright and
I was the only one
who noticed