closeted
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Her eyes were blue
Like the oceans that I would cross
To be able to see her face again
Her hair was like silk
That was delicately spun
When I was a kid, my mom would give me and my sisters
coloring books to keep us preoccupied
during Sunday Masses- Jesus themed coloring books, of course.
The Catholic kind where you use crayons to
her words,
shatter my resolve like ice
smashing my hope to bits and pieces
she says I'm over reacting
inventing things to finally make friends
this isn't how it ends
I look around and see that
Everyone's out and proud.
They're championing each other
In this colorful festival that I never really understood
But have always admired.
I'm locked in a tiny closet
I've spent my life in closets
First, it was the closet of a loner
A child without friends in a world of hate
The closet was small, suffocating, and lonely
when you were little, did you ever play hide and seek? there’s always one kid who hides in the closetif it was you, you know whythe closet’s warm and dark and quiet and as long as you stay silent, no one can tell you’re there
