hydrangea

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there was a time in which i was heavily involved with a boy, a boy who's eyes were as beautiful, if more so, than a hydrangea.

i remember it all so clearly; on a particular cold, lonely night, i heard three words that were previously foreign to me:

" i love you "

abruptly, i was shocked, shaken, and quiet frankly confused.

how can a boy tell another boy he loves him?

it took me some time, but i soon came to a realization;

things such as race, religion,

gender,

they never really mattered.

because when it comes to truly loving someone, you love them for who they are, not the labels society marks upon them.

we both had each other,

so why should something like our sex decide who we love?

it's hards for me to put this in words...

but simply, his smile, his eyes, to even the way he talks...

they're all like glimpses of heaven.

oh god, how madly in love i am.

yet, its been years...

i think i'll go lay some hydrangeas on his grave today.

____________

revised 2018.

Self Poetry, 2020: New Beginnings.Where stories live. Discover now