When we approached the intersection
Contaminated with political signs,
Yes on 1, No on 1. I asked,
“What did you vote for, daddy?”

We waited an hour in line for the elevator
Inside the crowded Empire State Building.
It was our turn but you said,
“We aren’t going in there with them.”

I had just received my diploma
And was floating on the high of achievement.
She put her arm around me and you said,
“Stop being so queer.”

My heart is broken
And I stay locked away for days
You knock on my door and ask,
“What’s wrong?”

I am not going to tell you what’s wrong
When I grew up hearing from your lips
That I am what’s wrong.
He doesn’t need that extra burden.

I will carry the memories of
Your vote against gay marriage,
The two men holding hands in the elevator,
The words that made my diploma a dagger.