Mat God Have Mercy
They drugged me with empty sentiments of “I love you”s
Lacing their swollen, dry nipples with dusted definitions of love
Milking an infant with faulty ideologies
Of what is “truly” right and wrong
Of what is “truly” the direction in life
Of what is “true”.
May they raise a child
Teaching them “thank you’s”, “pleases”, how to see everyone for the better,
And to love and cherish each and every creature, place, and person--
With exception of someone with the same anatomy
May they trap that child in between gray walls of heteronormativity
And sew clothes of pink and blue identity onto bare skin
And may they yell,
“May God have mercy on your soul!”
In distress upon the debris and rubble of their built up walls
And on the loose fabric dripping with tainted love
They numbed me with fists harsher than their judgements,
Leaving dark purple hues of disgust across my rib and neck
“May God have mercy on your soul!”
They will cry with the stench of whiskey and beer violating my nose
For I had violated their religion
May they bruise me a fatlip
And watch as my shame taints their hands
And drips down with fear
However,
She numbs me with care
Kissing every identity scar left behind
Wiping crimson tears off my fatlip
While we hold each other close
I breathe her in
And feel the rubble and debris surrounding us
I will grab cement
I will grab glue
I will grab scotch tape
To create bricks
To make a house to protect us
From the crumbling world
Pushing back strands of hair
To see her bask in the warm sunlight peering in
I don’t feel shame
I don’t feel guilt
I feel home
I feel love
So, may God have Mercy on my soul
Because hell has never felt so damn good