Poetry

LGBT+ History Month: 416 by Ruth Truscott

 Grass remains green, 
if unseen buried under intertwined legs.
our legs.
 
I’ve told you before
and will remind you again,
no one will accept you if she’s more than a friend.
 
hands reach,
to breach the miles contained within inches,
touch begins and I wonder if you can hear I’ve stopped breathing.
 
moments have consequences in your actions claiming that word
entering the multitude of the labels you’ve spurned
because all seem too absurd for the path you’ve forged,
is it worth such a turn?
 
you’re watching my eyes smile
I’m thinking that our lips were created to meet
 
take my direction
I offer only protection
for the world’s words will be worse
than any verse I’ve created
 
she smells like flowers,
I’ve spent countless hours deciphering exactly which bloom
becomes her perfume
travelling in waves
causing me to cave,
stillness cannot remain,
when faced with the glorious refrain
of her
I feel
this feels
real.
my hand is still in yours
what to say to the hand who reaches towards
so naturally it feel unnatural to…
 
Still inside, the voice screams
Stop,
because what can be more wrong than two people in love.