Day 8: A story that takes place in the 1950s


Love, devotion, purity,
love, poetry,
love, unfortunate, forbidden,
love, never to be


taken and shorn
blown, like the autumn leaves
in the minty winter breeze
that chills me to the bone


New adventures, missed adventures
labelled, mislabelled and coloured
fellow travellers
our hearts, as red as the sunset,
not flags conspired by your government


Royalty and splendour
not the bourgeois, not decadent,
not antinational, not antitheist
just people, with desires you do not understand;
swept under the rug as particles of dust
that fleck your narrow perceptions

Lavender scare

Beaten, broken, labelled again
lavender boys
scapegoats meant to fulfil political agendas
that blind us into
believing that love is blue and pink
and not a sevencolour spectrum;
believing that self–doubt and self–loathing
are the themes of the century

Lavender scare

All but forgotten
you won’t find papers on us
or poems that stir the soul
you won’t find protests against
atrocities that destroyed our will,
our lives, our loves

but you will find strong survivors,
living in resistance
loving in secret,
fearing our lives but fearing silence more

Fifty three years

It took you centuries to
see us as human beings
to see us as normal.

let my offence wash over you
and cleanse off your judgement;
wash clean the years of conditioning,
the years of heteronormativity

yes, I love my ex-wife
I just love him more.

One thought on “Lavender

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