this is not terrorism
this is toxic masculinity
made in the USA
when my mother hears
about orlando
she doesn’t look at me
the next day is three years
to the night we first kissed
& it actually meant something
to both of us
but i am imagining us
buried in the ground
because when a man looks at us
all i feel is sickness & anger
because when a man looks at us
i already know
what he is going to do
once, at the beach,
when we kissed in the water
& one of them asked us
to do it again
in exchange for brunch
once, holding hands
& crossing the street
when one of them yelled at us
looking down from a window
in a bar next to his girlfriend
once, when i was kissing you goodbye
in the rain & a group of them
asked to join in
i am so tired of being scared
i am so tired of seeing us die
i am so tired of ignoring your kiss
when we are outside
& surrounded by the things
that kill us every day
i am sure that my death
is going to happen
at the hand of someone else
& when it does happen
i will think about once
when i saw you laughing
when i was sad & honestly,
i just want my mom
to say something about this
but i know she won’t
so i will just remember
the last time she laughed
something i rarely hear
& that will be the sound
my body will feel first
