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