Was it a blessing or a curse to have parents
whose faith left no doubt that God was always with them?
Looking over their shoulder like a trusted friend
guiding them as they raised their son
But I was the gay son not perfect in their world
I was lost to them
in trying to live within their spiritual values.
Did I let them down?
Taking drugs to feel less imperfect?
Having unprotected sex at 14 to feel loved
By those who also lived imperfect lives?
Who hated a pompous God
unwilling to make room for them.
What pathetic irony: I needed my parents love
their willingness not to be blind-sided
by a faith that turned their hearts cold
blinding them from looking me in the eyes.
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