Member-only story
I get what it means
for homophobia to be
a fear of going home.
Waking with sobbing
instead of coffee I’m
held by mommy who
can’t see me trembling for
daddy because that simply
would not do, little shoe.
I’m scared of daddy.
My pain is invisible to
white heterosexuals
with whom I partake
in the same last name.
Silenced thoroughly
I wail internally
and feel this scream
bleeding through
what’s left of me.
Could it be that you
actually want to touch me?
I am a filthy faggot
(at least that’s what they taught me) —
so if you’re willing to be risky
then touch me
and if you can take the feeling
of being me away from me
then do so indulgently please
explore parts of me that are as of yet mysteries
get lost in my fretfully-woven tapestries
run your fingers along my fibers and explore my knots gently —
I’m full of tangles waiting to be discovered.
