"rivalled" poems - Hello Poetry

When my mom first thought that I was gay, She and my father sat me down at the kitchen table. I was fifteen and thought I was in love, And all they could do was scream at me... ‘You’re a sin; what you feel isn’t natural.’ ‘Where did we go wrong?’ And all I had wanted was to love in peace. But apparently, that was too much to ask from them. So I stifled myself. I cut myself off from her and let us wither Until there was nothing left of us because I wasn't normal And I was fifteen And all I wanted was my mother’s approval And how could I gain that if I wasn’t normal? And then I was sixteen and I thought I was in love again But this time with a seventeen-year-old boy That knew nothing of love And everything of sharp edges and even sharper words But he spoke so pretty to me, And how could I resist? But he hurt me worse than anyone else that I’ve known And he never even cared… And then I was seventeen. I was seventeen and my best friend had this mane Of beautiful hair and I called her lovely and wife And all the other silly little pet names that high school girls do But little did she know that her smile Lit fireworks inside my brain and the swarms of Butterflies that beat in my chest rivalled that of a drum. I thought she was beautiful. I saw the universe in her. But how could I admit that to myself without admitting it to My mother, the one person whose validation I crave like Air and water and life itself? How could I admit to her that I wasn’t Her little girl anymore? That I was a disappointment? And then I was eighteen. I was eighteen and numb and not looking for anything when he found me... I was eighteen and I thought that surely, Surely This was it, this was the feeling that I was waiting for. But it wasn’t and I was eighteen and alone again But this hurt worse than the others and then I was gone after that summer. Now, I’m almost nineteen. I’m almost nineteen and I’ve accepted the fact that I will disappoint my mother; The one whose opinion that I value the most; The one that gave birth to me; The only one that can tear me down until I feel like nothing. But she’s my mother so how could I let her go When she was there for my first word and my first steps And every one of my other firsts. My first date. My first dance. My first breakup. She was there when I left for college, and she’ll be there when (if) I get married. Because regardless of my choices, She loves me, and she always will. And even if I can’t bring my partner home, I will love her all the same. So mom, if you see this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out how you wanted. I’m sorry that I disappointed you. But I’m not sorry for being who I am. I’m not sorry for thinking women are beautiful And men are handsome Because all the world needs is a little bit more love, And who am I to deprive it of that?

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Mar 15, 2022

Mar 15, 2022 at 11:26 PM UTC

Ephemeral_Oblivion

An Apology to my Mother

When my mom first thought that I was gay, She and my father sat me down at the kitchen table. I was fifteen and thought I was in love, And all they could do was scream at me... ‘You’re a sin; what you feel isn’t natural.’ ‘Where did we go wrong?’ And all I had wanted was to love in peace. But apparently, that was too much to ask from them. So I stifled myself. I cut myself off from her and let us wither Until there was nothing left of us because I wasn't normal And I was fifteen And all I wanted was my mother’s approval And how could I gain that if I wasn’t normal? And then I was sixteen and I thought I was in love again But this time with a seventeen-year-old boy That knew nothing of love And everything of sharp edges and even sharper words But he spoke so pretty to me, And how could I resist? But he hurt me worse than anyone else that I’ve known And he never even cared… And then I was seventeen. I was seventeen and my best friend had this mane Of beautiful hair and I called her lovely and wife And all the other silly little pet names that high school girls do But little did she know that her smile Lit fireworks inside my brain and the swarms of Butterflies that beat in my chest rivalled that of a drum. I thought she was beautiful. I saw the universe in her. But how could I admit that to myself without admitting it to My mother, the one person whose validation I crave like Air and water and life itself? How could I admit to her that I wasn’t Her little girl anymore? That I was a disappointment? And then I was eighteen. I was eighteen and numb and not looking for anything when he found me... I was eighteen and I thought that surely, Surely This was it, this was the feeling that I was waiting for. But it wasn’t and I was eighteen and alone again But this hurt worse than the others and then I was gone after that summer. Now, I’m almost nineteen. I’m almost nineteen and I’ve accepted the fact that I will disappoint my mother; The one whose opinion that I value the most; The one that gave birth to me; The only one that can tear me down until I feel like nothing. But she’s my mother so how could I let her go When she was there for my first word and my first steps And every one of my other firsts. My first date. My first dance. My first breakup. She was there when I left for college, and she’ll be there when (if) I get married. Because regardless of my choices, She loves me, and she always will. And even if I can’t bring my partner home, I will love her all the same. So mom, if you see this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t turn out how you wanted. I’m sorry that I disappointed you. But I’m not sorry for being who I am. I’m not sorry for thinking women are beautiful And men are handsome Because all the world needs is a little bit more love, And who am I to deprive it of that?