My Love

I wonder what it is like
To be looked at, as you love the one you love

To always be looking, in the dark that squats between passersby
For eyes that won’t meet your eyes
For hands that would sooner twist the love out of you like a dishcloth,
Than applaud your small victories

Actually, I know, partly, what it’s like
When we were on the train in China,
one man stared
For the whole ride as we kissed and
Bounced our way together
And I felt many things, but
I wasn’t afraid. MTR looks from

Older folks are not spears, or guns.
Words in a language I don’t understand will never hurt me. He said, if there are people looking –
Let them look.

I wonder what it is like then, to be
Told that your love for another human being
Is unnatural. Unsavoury. Hate-worthy

And there is still so much hate
I open the computer, hate
I read the newspaper, hate
and they hate and they hate and they hate and they hate and we negotiate with worthless empathy and I don’t think about it too much because it makes me too sad

I am so sad that people cannot love freely
That love is still a dangerous thing,
A poisonous and affecting thing
That has to be hidden
Under bridge arches, in car parks,
In the snippets when no-one is looking
In the safe spaces that are anything but safe

My love will not see me hiding in a bathroom stall
My love will not tie itself around my neck and tie me down until either I drown or I celebrate

This is not my love. But it was theirs
And it’s a braver love than you or I
When I look at the man I am going to marry all I feel is joy,

Not fear. This is the difference, and fuck, I am so lucky.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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