I heard you again today
slinging "gay" like it's trash talk,
like it’s a joke that hits harder the more it hurts,
like it’s something dirty,
something wrong,
something you don’t want to be.
But let me say this:
That word?
It means something to me.
And it’s not yours to break.
You think it makes you bold?
To talk tough by cutting others down?
You wear your cruelty like a crown,
but real power?
It doesn’t echo in laughter that leaves someone aching.
It doesn’t leave silence behind when you leave the room.
It doesn’t feel like shame
pressing down on someone’s chest
because of a joke you didn’t think twice about.
I’m bi.
Yeah, for real.
No punchline, no apology.
But every time you talk like that,
I feel it
like you’re ripping parts of me out
and throwing them back with a smirk.
It hurts,
because love shouldn’t feel like hiding.
Because family shouldn’t feel like fear.
But you make me question if I belong
just by opening your mouth…