here - take. have it in your hands. does it smell like fear or the absence of noise? does it think like you or does it do things you never wanted? does it make you gasp and shiver? do you dream of it in the night and does it make you believe in things like smiling when you should be begging forgiveness and kissing in the pew and the rose garden / heavy wrinkled hands prying back the curtain to watch them go at it by the bus stop?
if so.
this is love. hold it close and tight and real gentle. like you’d touch a star ; unbelieving. that the light doesn’t burn you flesh through to bone but sinks in, grateful for a home.
queer, beloved | talia b. ; @raggedhearts
love, queer love, queerly beloved • writing things i hesitate to post and posting them anyway.
i wrote this to be able to feature anyone who identifies as queer, in gender/****** identity, whose small acts of love (holding hands, a kiss on the cheek) were exaggerated by queermisic onlookers.