Aai, Baba –
I’m bursting at the seams
2 fucking syllables at the tip of my tongue
I want to scream them from my roof
I want to scream them at the top of my lungs.
Not because others need to know
But because I need to say them out, loud.
I’ve been living a life-long hypothesis
I’ve only recently learnt to be proud.
I’ve only recently proved it to be true
Aai, Baba – I’m dying to just tell you.
Who knew
that 2 fucking syllables are such a burden to bare
I want to swim to you across the fucking Atlantic
Just to stop drowning in the depths of my own despair.
If you can’t measure something, it doesn’t exist
But I can measure this
in the depth of my anger
in the breadth of my compassion
in the accelerating sense of urgency
in the weight of its meaning
Aai, Baba – isn’t it so silly that
24 fucking years
come down to
2 fucking syllables:
I’m gay.
