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Ahmad Attr May 31
O whisperer,
When I die, I want you to visit my home
As a final wish
There in bedroom, take off the clock from the wall
Behind it, in a secret orifice, you’ll find a steel box
With a numeric lock
Enter 2.12.19, it is the exact day I fell in love with you
The exact day, you became the whisperer
And within this tiny box, you’ll find letters
These were the letters I wrote
And pretended I sent to you
I want you to read them all
I know you might not understand them
So I want you to reach out to someone
Who can explain them to you
After that I want you to burn them all
Although I assume you might already want to do that
In your fury, in your disgust
you might want to turn them into ashes and dust
But I hope you do try to understand them

Don’t let my words get to your head
Yes I called you many things
Loud, arrogant, mean, selfish
Chameleon, hypocrite, liar, egocentric
Which to be fair you were
But you were also my true love
Yes, if you haven’t realized that yet
I will say it again I do love you
For a long time, it feels like 100 years,
Centuries, lifetimes
For all this time, your thoughts tormented me

So O whisperer!
Will you remember me?
At least for 100 days?
Will you think about me
When you to go sleep?
Will my face linger in your head?
Will you think about everything you said?
Will you finally come to visit me when I am dead?
maybe shed a tear? Just a tiny droplet of it
What will you say, when you get the news?
O whisperer! There is nobody to blame
Except the fate,
But please visit my grave, alone, finally alone
Preferably late at night, perhaps 22.32,
The exact hour I fell in love with you
Will you remember me for at least a 100 days.
Ahmad Attr May 26
Times and times again
I get this ugly temptation
To confess my love to you
But there are some conditions
You have to be alone in your room
You also have to be in a good mood
Third you must not be armed
Preferentially your arms have to be tied
Finally I want you to listen to me
Until I am satisfied
Only then you can speak your mind
I will talk about your genesis as the whisperer
And mine as a poet
The December night when you whispered
A ***** little thing you saw, at a party
At that point I truly saw you,
First time not diluted in the background
An orchestra of violins, pianos and trumpets
Played as I gazed at you snowed under the lights
Standing two stairs above me
That night your name was etched on my mind
then on my forearm which I will kiss before bed
and then in every fibre of my existence
I miss those days, when every stranger's face was yours
Every voice was mistaken to be yours
I shed tears pretty as the mistletoes
Because you were cruel
You said awful things, you did them too
Didn’t understand which way the wind blew
For three months I loved you
Like my life was dependent on it
But then we were separated
Deep within me, I was relieved
I thought I could escape your curse
I didn’t though
you came back, harder than before
you wanted help which I was glad to do
I wanted to latch on to anything that resembled
You, you, and you
And when the parting was over
I came back, but you were still cruel
Like you were back in December
And at the end of my manifesto
I will look into your eyes, and say
I still feel the same way

I assume at that point there will be two possibilities
You either hate me for life
Or you want to end me
If I am right, I’d rather have you **** me
People often raise eyebrows
For how candidly I talk about death
They don’t know I fear it, more than they do
But sometimes it is a preference
Over something else in life
So in the name of virtues
I permit you to end mine
This is a very personal and autobiographical poem.
lilly grace May 12
When I tell you this story, remember it may change: god loves all (but not really).
Leviticus 18. Man shall not lie with man. “god hates that.” Leviticus, I don’t like you. You are the reason why people hate us. god makes no mistakes. he is the one who loves all. he who loves all (“unless you’re a ******”).

Unless you’re a ******. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. But apparently, we are the sticks. A bundle of sticks. The fuel to your hateful fire (the fire of your demise, not mine). Hate kills. We’ve all seen it happen. June 12, 2016 (only four years ago). Suddenly the pulse stopped beating.

Dad. All a kid wants is to make their dad proud. What about when dad isn’t proud of you? What if dad isn’t proud of you all because of something you can’t control? Can you hear me, Dad? I love you. Will you say it back? “The bible says it’s wrong.”

Coming out of the closet: a metaphor for LGBT people's self-disclosure of their ****** orientation or of their gender identity (Wikipedia). Hey Dad. Remember when I came out? I cried. Mom yelled at me while you stood there, stoically, with the look of a man who just lost his youngest child. You quietly told me you loved me no matter what because I will always be your daughter.  You haven’t said you love me since.

Do not use our love as an excuse for you to hate. Why are we the disgusting ones? Your attitude reflects in the eyes of the devil himself. I wish I could make them understand. The love I have for her, he has for him, she has for her. It’s no different than the love she feels for him and he feels for her. We are all the same. God loves us all. God created everyone exactly the way they should be. Love is the basis of this religion, yet you cherry-pick those who you believe are deserving of that love. You attempt to take on the role of a God that is not yours to assume. Only God can judge. God can judge. Can judge. Judge. You are not God. Are not God. Not God. God. I guess things really can get lost in translation.

“I don’t hate anyone, I just don’t agree with it. In the bible, it says it’s wrong, and I place my faith in the bible because it is the word of [G]od.” One could argue that’s not hateful. And to any other (“normal”) person, it probably appears fine. “It’s their religion. It’s their beliefs. Just respect it and move on.” But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Can you hear us? Screaming from the pits of hell that you said we were destined to burn in?  It’s not the hell you’re thinking of, though. It’s hell on earth. A hell that you created for us through your twisted up version of this religion that’s supposedly based on “love”. One we have to live through every day. “I still love you, but I don’t agree with your choices.” That gets tiring to hear after a while, you know? Replaying on a loop in our heads, day after day, night after night. “I still love you but…” The unacceptance is exhausting our minds. It’s not a choice. Why do you think we’d choose this? Why would we choose to live a life where so many people hate us?

June of 2019. I went to Baton Rouge Pride. You drove me, dad. You drove me there and walked in with me. Granted, you didn’t know about me yet, but you went with me anyway. Once you saw that I was with my friends, you left. Mom said you went to get coffee. When I asked why you left, she simply offered that you “just aren’t comfortable with this type of thing”. You’re still not comfortable. Sorry about that.

Dear Leviticus. I still don’t like you. You are the reason why people call us *******. You are the reason why people call us *****. You are the reason people think we’re disgusting. You are the reason why people hate us. Man shall not lie with man. “god hates that.” (You are the reason why my dad no longer tells me he loves me.) Thanks god.
i wrote this for my english class at the beginning of this year. thought i'd share.
Kitten Yvad Oct 2020
I cried in a cafe
over the summer

Atop a sheet of music
my tears blurred
the digital bars on the screen

Yes Suz I've told him
&i  swear I still love him
you think maybe he doesn't believe me?

Love, you gave me
your note book, you call me
sweet things help me with
Sheetmusic reading

When im with him
I only think of you
Multilove my heart is
split in two
tell me tell me how it
feels so whole???

Your piano fingers,
you cup My face,
im dying to say your name

you teach me to spell
it with notes
I tell you I love him

Your smile, I see your eyes
you are so pure, my love,I'm afraid
I'm going to hell

If I told you I love you
You'd never believe me
All the love im living im breathing
Minor harmonic, my heart a
diminished third

You hold me, Habibi
and tell me you're sorry
your fear wasn't for me

I've only been soft

Atop a sheet of music
my tears blurred
the digital bars
"multilove" made me cry in the cafe like I was divorcing my partner of 20 years and parent of my children. When really I just loved two people of different genders at once, and equally. Can you even imagine falling into despair over how good it feels to be in love? To be in more love.  When nothing's wrong.. there's only love. And feel like you don't deserve to feel it all.
e Apr 2
you have a gun pointed at you and blood on your hands
they ask you if it was you: if you've committed the crime, if you did the unthinkable, if you really are such a villain
and you are, you did, you have,
so you tremble, ready for the switch off that'll obscure your vision
you know you're guilty but still, you shake your head, scared
you renounce, you avoid their scrutinizing stare
you swear you deserve the dark but still, you hope you can escape
to go back into hiding, wash the blood from your hands and reshape
Talia Jan 27
To you, their rights
are a minority priority

You're entitled, spoon fed
Gorged with greed
a coralling disease

a fence that protects you,

but a barbed wire noose
                           round their throats.

You're just another ring
in the chains of oppression
just needed to be said really. saddened by the inaction of humankind.
tried to play around a bit with formatting.
Talia Jan 27
Grass, truly greener
when one side's left to rot

But, then again  
that is exactly what you profit off
A world where it is easier for the white, straight, wealthy males to thrive. Where is the equality? Change needs to also come from them. Why don't more those who are privileged use this to their advantage?
yann Dec 2020
i used to only love women and it felt like being so alone,
like not bringing your date to family gatherings by fear of
seeing the disapproval
in their eyes, in their mouths, in their words,
felt like being both the predator and the prey,
looking at hands and wanting to hold them and fearing that
the world would swallow me whole
if i did.

and now i love you, probably,
and what am i, if not lost,
unable to be contained in F or Ms,
unfit for any of your definitions,
ready to change my body just so i can stand to walk past mirrors and live my truth.
and loving a man feels much the same after all,
dangerous and real, like craving different hands
but knowing the world still has its mouth grand open,
just for me.
going from identifying as a lesbian to realizing im tranasc and probably a little in love with all my closest friends no matter their gender.. and realizing how terrifying it all is !
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