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Queer Failure

Being gay is hard, guys.

By Erica HalePublished 5 years ago 2 min read
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It started out with an "oh my god,"

A phrase we'd repeat in earnest.

You stood there,

Looking like everything I didn't know I needed.

My heart fluttered with every smile,

And every time you looked at me,

I swear time stopped,

Earning me another moment alive with you.

Time flew and we swore the clocks were magic,

Stealing away those moments like

They were thieves and our time

Was precious stones we were keeping.

It turns out our time was slipping,

Faster than either of us anticipated.

It turns out those moments were fleeting

And I was merely passing through.

What could I do?

What could I tell you to make those

Moments stop and freeze,

Where you almost said you loved me?

How could I hold my heart together

While it was bursting out of me,

Bleeding out in front of you,

When you couldn't even look at me.

"It's not you, it's me," you said,

But that felt like the biggest lie,

The biggest load of shit

You could have fed me.

It was me when you told you,

You wanted more than friendship,

In your kitchen where we both

Were so scared of our feelings,

We couldn't even look at each other.

It was me you held in the dark,

And finally accepted those forbidden feelings.

It was me when you were kissing me,

And feeling me like it was the only thing

That was keeping you alive,

When I was all you needed to survive.

So, now I cry, but not because you happened,

I cry because it all happened too fast.

I have whiplash from feelings that crashed

Into brick walls and my safety rating was flawed,

I cry for photos we never shared,

And how we could never hope for love

From those, you held so dear…

I cry because I need your soft skin,

Like a parched man needs a drink again,

Like a dying man needs the pain to end.

Like I need the pain to end…

I cry for you because I miss your laugh,

And the ease with which I could be with you,

Even in the quiet moments where we merely

Existed in the same space, as lovers and friends.

I cry because I’d do it all again,

Knowing exactly how it would end.

And knowing how true it was,

When I said I loved you, and how it’s as true now

As it was then.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Erica Hale

I am 30, live in small town, USA, and am married. Living life one day at a time.

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