PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I want you to know it was me. 

One day, I want to show you all the things you tried to bury.

That I, behind a cloak made invisible by your arrogance, told the town of about your unholy singing.

I want you to know that I wish I could have screamed it all louder.

I want you to know it was me

And that you are in the hell you imagined —

your myopic mind and sour soul spoiling, wasting away the one miracle everyone gets a chance at.

I want you to know that your lighted dance and gilded jaws don't scare me.

That your perverted nature is impotent.

I want you to know it was me

That I can see through your fig leaf

That you are a miserable reminder of why we will twirl naked in the garden forever, bellowing queer laughter from our butterflied, yellow hearts.