The beauty of the storm–the before, the during, the after.
Just an ode to inner demons and the beautiful woman in my life who calls me hers.
I’m gay. Two words. Three without the contraction. So simple, so damnable. She shares the post. They’ll say I’m perverted. They’ll say I’m going to Hell. She trembles. Waits. Then a miracle happens. You’re loved. You’re beautiful. You’re worth it. Those simple words feel like redemption. Fall like healing rain.