I can get married.
There are wars outside these walls
where children lay on sidewalks
and are thrown to the ground
with insults and slurs,
riddling their bodies
and the monumental step
mankind has to offer me
is my marriage.
than that of the state
preventing me from being in a union with my partner
recognized by both God and law
I wonder if it even matters
that my rights
are being debated
when there are people
still being hurt by the words of
those who run this society
cisgendered, privileged males
who tell me what to do
with my body
regardless of my gender,
regardless of my race,
we are all below the white, upper class, straight man
Do you ever wonder why I sound so bitter?
Do you ever wonder why I get sad?
My school district was a battleground
the bombs always went off and
at the end of the day, the school
only took a neutral stance on my sexuality
Bullying was “frowned upon”
but who could step in when it
would only be brushed off as a joke
I learned that
sorrow and pride are two sides
of the same coin,
I clutched them both to my chest
as I made it through high school,
forcing myself to walk those hallways
listening to people tell me
that I wasn’t worth it.
and I wondered
how many dead children
it would take to make a change in this country
it took eight suicides to make a difference in Champlin,
but the count keeps rising
The “neutrality” policy may have been erased,
but there are still scars
down my spine.
My child’s inheritance will be those scars
Michele Bachmann will leave Minnesota
when she looks back at the graves she left behind,
she won’t weep a single tear
After those years
I will never look at rope the same way again.
There is nothing righteous about the
silence of those I love.
I once pressed my skin
against a boy
who was too afraid to come out of the closet,
his hands would shake every time
I was close to him,
he just wanted to love me.
Instead of pushing,
I lit his closet with Christmas light kisses,
Technicolor promises that would stay with him until he was
strong enough to open the door
When he finally admitted that he never would come out,
I was angry,
how could I tell him it was safe to come out
when my story was tarnished
Coming out stories are only as beautiful
as the people telling them,
are only as successful as the environment
that the person is in.
In a world full of equality,
two short words
should not be enough to condemn a person
to living a life
in a closet full of Technicolor promises
and Christmas lights
Only some of us
can afford the luxury
of having walls to hide behind
I can get married, right?