Love in June
Why does attraction bear shame
when authenticity should be bliss
What of love and a kiss?
A photo makes me worry and wonder
am I doing right by Him?
If my mind were clouded in filth, what more should I discover
as I clamber inward?
Skin-crawling and heavy-minded
I lay awake in twilight, tortured by what could be.
Is there a point in it
or will it all come crashing?
Is there pride to be found in the monochrome,
saturated only by the few with conviction?
Could there be more besides loathing?
It has a grasp on me.
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