Tributes
Don’t deface my shrines
though they stand at two different altars.
I honor my gods and goddesses equally;
even as one is hard where the other is soft,
I know there is a place in my heart for both.
Whether their lips are framed by jawline or hips,
a kiss is the sweetest tribute a soul can provide.
"I love you"
isn't blasphemous,
it can't be, no matter the deity or the believer.
Encapture me in long hair, rough hands,
smooth legs, broad shoulders,
and I will receive your gospel.
At 13, I offered my virginity to the Goddess of Innocence,
and offerings can never be returned.
Still, more sacrifices would be required for one's salvation.
Flowers bloom fragrance as a delicate caress,
yet they don't attempt to compete
with trees that bear fruit
and I dare not compare,
for who can choose
between never being touched
and never eating their fill?
There is no choice for me or those like me.
We exist to love, not to label,
nestled in the earth to help all grow without judgment.
I've visited the most elegant gardens,
and many of them are home to more than one type of flower.
There is breathtaking beauty to
character,
uniqueness,
and unapologetic freedom.
At 20, despite my fear and self-doubt,
my first rose of acceptance bloomed,
and though it wasn't my virginity,
the offering felt identical.
Still, there were more flowers and trees
I wanted to smell, pluck, climb,
and eventually, grow.
Love is freedom
and the freedom to love is a birthright,
or at least it should be.
These years fill my canvas
and I know too much of life to expect
only one color to leave its stokes across my heart.
Paint is intended to mix no matter the artist.
Colors bring paintings to life.
Pink.
Purple.
Blue.
Sex is art
and art is the best when boundless,
an expression,
or maybe introspection.
These sweet collisions fill my years
and I know too much of love to expect it to come easy.
Leave these memories across my heart,
men, women,
gods, flowers,
goddesses, and trees,
no matter the tribute, I pray to thee.
Published Sep 30, 2020
Updated Apr 7, 2023