My Heart Doesn't Know Gender

Written from a space of:  Tired of being judged

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

Dear Friends (or lack there of),

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, my heart doesn’t know gender.

It’s too busy feeling safe, loved, and cared for to surrender.

To society’s expectations of whom I should be with.

Trust coupled with lust creates magic. fire. and I burn with desire. becoming blind to one’s genitalia.

You know what I’m talking about.

The same you felt when you met the person of your dreams.

Late night phone calls.

No concentration at work, but that’s ok. They are all you want to focus on anyway.

Story-telling of their past. Fortune-telling of their of future. Praying they see you in it. Because your heart grows fonder and fonder by the minute.

I mean, really.

Do I ask YOU to temper your attraction to the person who gives you butterflies; ask you not to kiss when saying the the goodbyes; never to say “I do” as you look into their angelic eyes?

Do I compare your love to sin, be it the same as adultery or sleeping with kin; shame you to feeling so guilty and believing that love is not love and it does not win?

Or do I secretly pray that your feelings would one day fade away and you’re left alone until your dying day; welcome you into my heart and home, but say, sorry I can’t attend your wedding day?

No, no, and no!

Wanna know why?

Because that would be a cruel way, to betray, the one I call bff.

So no, we can’t still be friends. Me show up for your everyday life while I get the pretends.

Can’t have your cake and eat it, too.  True friendship doesn’t work that way, Boo.

So in closing, while you judge my heart for loving the same gender, take a close look inside yours and tell me who is the real the offender.

p.s. Here’s a pic of Bae and me for your viewing pleasure.

: Juanyta ~ with a ‘y’