she spoke of golden thrones, but not of kings,
she spoke of a love deep and true, with the unnoticeable absence of rings.
she spoke of her life, and somehow managed not
to reveal much, she kept asking me
if I thought,
being gay is a scornful label,
when I told her a little more about me.
I told her no,
no, it's not.
it's not scornful
and it's not a label.
her parents would be disgusted, she said
if she spoke of her actual feelings,
so instead she chose me,
profoundly voicing her thoughts,
like i was just a part of her
and she was a part of me.
YOU ARE READING
centuries
Poetry❝and yet i pretend not to know why your image is painted in my eyes.❞ poetry #216 [© afterwords 2015]
