it's the day before my driving exam and i still don't know how to parallel park. i'm sitting in the passenger seat as my mother drives to our old church. this space no longer holds me. i stare blankly at the bug smeared across the windshield and hope my silence will be mistaken for submission.

we sit in the right wing of the chapel, half way up the staircase. i make eye contact with the girl i made out with last summer in the youth pastor's office. she is all sour cherries, collarbone tan lines, and the taste of salt water on my tongue. she abruptly turns and whispers something to her friend. the friend gasps, clasps her hands together, and starts to stammer, "Dear Lord.."

love the sinner, hate the sin. this love is choking me.

i know they pray for me over melancholic sermons, stale pizza, and gospel songs. then they write slurs on my locker, ***** me, and try to turn me straight all for the glory of God. i wonder if anyone ever thinks to pray for them.

the pastor starts to list things he considers abominations: bruised avocados, atheists, wokeness, his ex wife. my eyes glaze over.

as a child i learned "lesbian" was a bad word before i learned it was a part of my identity. i was taught that my love is inappropriate, immoral, nothing more than a **** category most commonly searched by the same boys that tell me to rot in hell.

thats when it starts, the same speech i've heard my whole life.

i am a sinner.

my sin is love. my sin is loving so deeply that i was able to reframe my thoughts, overcome the preconceived ideas planted in my mind as a child that preached hatred and shame and passing judgement onto strangers.

for once, i do not stay. i do not endure it. i stand up, fix my skirt, and climb over my mother, her eyes fixed on the pastor, nodding along. i walk out of the chapel and 2.1 miles down the highway. my mother does not come after me.

there are parts of me that she does not know how to love and has no desire to learn how.

my family always jokes that the dog is my mother's favorite child. i watch the way she meticulously brushes her fur, holds her when she cries during storms, and loves her regardless of the mud dragged down the sterilised corridor of the house.

i take comfort in knowing she cares about something, i just wish it were me.

This vessel shivers
under all of the heavy fabric
while the mind hopes for
something so sapphic

Make this vessel yours
free it from the mean fabric
make it yours to protect, yours to touch
add a little of your warmth
you know just how much

She sees the world through a prism of light,
Her vision vast, her heart and mind, open wide.
Bisexual and bold, she stands in her truth,
Generous, thoughtful, with kindness inside.

She embraces each soul for who they are,
Honoring difference, sexuality, and the proud.
For what truly matters is love’s quiet truth—
Not the bodies we cherish, but hearts allowed.

Her sexuality is not her whole name,
It’s how she welcomes, accepts, and defends,
Finding beauty in every path crossed,
Shielding those who need her gentle hands.

The world needs more of her radiant grace,
For we would be better with hearts like hers in place.


— Sincerely, Boris

I can't think straight because I'm not.
I love one girl who is so hot!
And in this poem I want to show
How hetero people are ruining it all...

To think straight means... To hate!
To think you'll burn in the hell if you were born gay;
But beating their child is completely okay.
To think that clothes really matters;
If you're a girl then must wear dresses.
To think that colors have gender;
But boys used to wear pink, remember?
To think when a woman has body hair then she's so ugly!
But when a man has the same then he's very lovely!
To think they're normal and others are not;
In fact only they are stupid a lot!
Arguments against same *** marriages they try to introduce;
But forget that straight couples are full of abuse.

Our world would be so much better
If you shut up your mouth, dear hetero...

Rain soaks our clothes, leaves us breathless and cleansed.
The lights bounce and shimmer; a thousand lights on us.
Coppery and acidic, but it doesn’t overpower the taste of you.
Drunken girls laugh into the night like gulls in the morning.

Ignore the looks; kiss me, put your lips on mine.
Smear my pink lipstick, make your pretty red stick.
Fist my sweater and pull my heart out; keep it with yours.
Tug the strands of my hair, pull me closer; don’t let the divider in.

It’s cold in the rain, so mingle our breaths
and create hot, steamy fog to keep us warm.
The lights are on us, but **** it; let’s give ’em a show.
They want the rain to drown us; let’s slow dance.

Hold my waist, reel me in like a love song.
Sip my lips like cheap beer, savour me like wine.
Bruise me like a peach; kiss it better.
Feel the wind sting our cheeks; try to blow out our flame.

Whispering in my ear, he’s looking, isn’t he?
Kissing the frown from your lips, yes, he is. Who cares?
Let the hateful ******* sneer and scorn.
I’ll still love my lover in this storm.

In her presence I stand, submissive and weak;
She’s a goddess of power, so strong and unique!
She knows what she wants and takes what she needs,
Leaving me breathless with shaking knees.

She gazes at me right through the soul
And I cannot resist her gentle control!
My adorable lover has dominance at its peak;
After our ******* she gives me a kiss on the cheek…

While her lipstick shines on my body so bright,
I’m lying naked in bed and she drives me wild!
In her arms I feel obedient and secure
And we know our love is tender and pure!

She’s the sexiest woman I have ever seen!
She looks like a **** but is only nineteen…

На всем свете Лизонька одна,
Чьи прелестные глаза
Повседневно радуют меня,
Хочу, чтобы чаще рядом ты была!