Sometimes there’s love.
Sometimes it goes away.
Sometimes I’m waiting again.
Sometimes I try another day.
Sometimes I return.
Sometimes I stay.
Sometimes the sex
makes my mind a spiritual kind of place.
Sometimes there’s madness.
Sometimes it’s divine.
Sometimes there’s hurt.
Sometimes it’s just fine.
Sometimes I lose my faith.
Sometimes I have to pray.
Though always I know I’m gay.
And always I can’t let go,
as weak or strong that is
to admit to say.
Yeah, this love is weak and strong.
There’s no veneer.
No going through the motions.
Yes, there’s weak.
And there’s also strong.
Right here all along.
This ain’t no hetero kind of nonsense,
trying to keep up appearances for
society or family.
This love is weak and strong.
Grab my wrists babe, lead me on.
[For National Poetry Month, why not celebrate, shine light on, and be real about Sapphic love? 🤷🏻♀️]
novamartinpoetry.com 