To Cry In Silence

A swelling of tears tsunami’s his bowels. A bouquet of smiles for onlookers.

Eyes, a humanistic dam grappling pain. Sweetest gestures of joviality to passersby’s.

Tears dropping, mouth wide open, clutching a towel against his face – no sound.

He washes his face, dries his hands, brushes the beard, and primps his shirt, a meeting in 10.

Expect laughter, wait for the punch line, be inspired by his presence, adore his perfectionism.

But miss his humanity. Mistake his red eyes as hardworking. Assume his tardiness as busy, make light of his bruises as battles won, and lastly jest of his silver… platter… life.

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Do You Want to Talk About It?

Do you want to talk about it?

Do you want to talk about it?

Yes!

Let’s talk about how much it hurts. Let’s talk about how I am still feeling it. Let’s talk about how I am addicted to the pain. Let’s talk about how something so lovely could feel so horrific. Let’s talk about how something warm and round turned into shards of glass slipping down my throat. Let’s talk about heartache. Let’s talk about betrayal. Let’s talk about friendship. Let’s talk about sleepless nights. Let’s talk about you. Let’s talk about me. Let’s talk about sacrifice. God, the Universe, the Law of Attraction. Let’s talk about science. Let’s talk about new world orders. Sub atomic particles, Quantum Physics, emotional stability. Mental analysis. Twin flames-soul mates. Segregation, discrimination, memories that won’t leave. Memories that won’t come. Dreams that are in the past. Future events never to come. I am talking pure religion, physical attraction, romantic explosion, lost wisdom. I’m gonna cover sex and blisters, and long nights with whispers. Caress my body and cuddle my mishaps. We gonna walk down the streets with death on our hips; pestilence on the left and mortification on the right while looking hope and creativity straight forward. I’m talking about love – you know what I mean?

So, do you still wanna talk???

My Love is Too Wild to Be Caged

This is the second poem I wrote after watching Tyler Perry’s “For Colored Girls.”  My hand rushed against the paper to bring a message of internal surge. As I read it now I feel power, pain, courage, fear, and love. This poem is a mesh of all my experiences – triumphants and failures. I did not like the poem at first, but after watching my friend’s expression after she read it I became intrigued. Between you and I…I think the poem is so personal that I am afraid to share it.

 

~My Love is Too Wild to Be Caged~

 

My love is too wild to be caged

Too pure to be thrown in my face

My love is too raw to be cooked, boiled, and seasoned

My love is too Godly to be served, to be written, and spoken.

 

For a gay boy my love is just as real

I am unashamed of my body and its wants

For a gay boy my love is too real to be sexualized

For a gay boy my body is too manly to be demeaned

My heart is too red to be diluted, too fierce to be tamed.

 

As a man my heart is too real

As a man my heart is here, hard, and soft

Melting and stone. Hard. Soft. Crazy. Painful and full.

 

As a man my heart is me

As a gay boy my heart is me

As a child my heart is me

As me my heart is here.

A Smile Reached My Bedside

I live for the thrill. I live for the times I cannot believe what I have done. I am 24 and raging. I am 24 and evolving. I am 24 and changing. Time moves so slowly while life moves so fast. One minute I am here and the next I am worlds away. A new adventure every minute. A new heart every second. Sometimes I wonder if I will be alive in the morning, sometimes I wish I would be dead in the morning. I cannot endure a pain greater than the one today, but I know I can experience greater joy than I did two days ago. I guess that is what keeps me going. The potential for happiness, the hope of faith. The look of better more fulfilling days.

 A smile reached my bedside today, from who I do not know but it warmed my toes and wiggled in my stomach.  I awoke with a rush and sent a smile and a hug to a bedside in a far off land. 

Through Tears, Snot, and love: A Letter to My Father

I sat crossed legged on my bed one night and wrote this through tears and anguish. I had one of the largest scares of my entire life. I was not sure how long I had left on this planet because of a foolish impulsive act.  I took my body for granted; I told myself I was invincible.  I stole my innocence away because I was sick of being patient.  Instead of turning to my family for support, I turned to my impoverished emotions. 

**This is my first time reading it since it was written. I like it just the way it is.**

 

Through Tears, Snot, and love: A Letter to My Father

~Will you love me forever knowing that I sinned? Will you love me knowing that your boy is not a boy? Will you love me tomorrow knowing that I am sick? Will you love me when they pull out the coffin? Can you love me when I choose the colors? Can you look at me with my sores? Can you cry with me or for me when I can no longer?  Will you love me father when I pass? Will you bury me? Can you look at me eyes full of tears and tell me you are proud? Tell me you love me and hate and shame do not run through you.

Father, I love you and I have sinned but I am human and I am a sinner. Will you love me forever and can you bury me next to you? Can you hold me as I slip? When it gets dark remember my smile. Let it brighten your day. Look towards the sun and see me. I will always be with you. I will never leave your side. Guide my little brother so he can be a man. Tell him I let him down. Tell him that love will guide him right. Hug my older brother and never let go. The days you didn’t say I love you will never occur again. Whisper it in the wind and pass it on the ripples of the sea. I am your baby boy and I am sorry. ~

 

This excerpt/poem is extremely emotional for me. I am tearing as I write this.  My father is the greatest; I simply want him to be proud of me. He is. We spend our entire lives trying to please our parents even after they pass. At one point I told myself if my parents do not agree with my decision as a man to love other men that is on them, but truthfully I want their approval. I want their blessing. I want them at the wedding.  I want them to hand me over to the love of my life. I want to peer over while at the altar and see my father crying. He will declare that he is proud and could ask me to be no different than I am.  

 

I do not know about you but I want my parents to be a part of my life, my new standard family; a non-traditional non-hetero style of living. I’m in love with my second chance.