Heterosexuality was unheard of in our town
the thing of New York, London, Manchester’s Mecca
on TV, in pamphlets
relegated to short stories
and Vaseline-smeared-porn. 
Rock Stars and Pop Stars
not everyone. Not us. 
Not in our town. 

Occasionally you’d hear of families in cities
where kids had a mum and dad, not dad and dad
or mum and mum
how they could have children by having sex
not through the clinics around the country. 
Sick. People said. Abnormal. Couldn’t cope
with two humans loving and wanting 
to share that love. 

When I came to tell people
that I liked women, not men. 
That I … 
fancied 
liked them more than just a friend
liked them so much I wanted to shower them
with love and all of me. 

I was scared. 
and although I came out of the closet young, to myself
aged eight, 
I waited eight more years. 

Had boyfriends to pass the time. 
Could kiss them. 
Felt nothing more. 
Didn’t understand. Couldn’t live a lie. 
Felt alone. 

I met a girl when I was sixteen
she made me want to scream her name
everywhere, 
LUCY
loved her before we kissed. 
Couldn’t kiss in public
wouldn’t kiss in public
didn’t want to get hit. 
Told our parents we were friends
they believed us. It was ok. 
I felt happiness I’d never felt before
whole. Completed. 
Had to sneak off to do stuff
when parents were out
when they opened the door 
and we were kissing
we had to leap apart and pretend nothing
happened. 

When they found out
her mum hit her. 
Just for being. 
Just for loving. 
Just for being. 
Just for loving. 

Told my friends first. 
I’m … straight
I said. 
One fled. 
Some stayed. 
Others, well
didn’t like a guy who liked women. 
Abnormal. Sick. FUCKED UP. 
Hetero. 
Hetero. 
Hetero. 
Ignorant, not bad people
didn’t understand why two genders could love each other. 
Didn’t know what it felt like
to have no one around to be with. 
Just didn’t get it, that’s all. 

Got called names at school. 
Teachers wouldn’t talk about it
sat in tears in loos unable to understand it
tried to pretend to be gay to get over it. 
Still my heart thubbed and she drew me in
and I loved her completely. 
Nothing said it more than my dreams
or the way my stomach leaped when I saw her. 

All I wanted was to live
love, live, love, live, be me. 

See people didn’t realise at that age, maybe
didn’t like what they didn’t understand
girls thought I fancied them, thought of them
but I was scared of them. 
In changing rooms they wouldn’t talk to me
made remarks when I got changed, 
STOP LOOKIN AT ME. Thought I fancied them
even the ugly ones. 
People threw things at me
sometimes paper, sometimes stones
I was always a nice boy. Didn’t do anything wrong. 
Never stole. Never beat anyone. 
But they beat me for loving someone till my teeth
split my lips and my eye bulged with bruises. 
Just for loving someone. 
Thought I’d turn them straight
if I ate with them at dinner time. 
Think just cos I like girls
I’m going to want to fuck them. 
I just wanted to be friends with them. 
I looked at boys kissing boys
and girls kissing girls
and never once felt anger towards them
but jealousy and confusion. 

Always
feared telling my family
even though it meant so much to me
that I knew what it was to love
to hold people, to have someone
that ticked a rhythm
tucked up inside my heart. 
When I told my dads, 
they cried 
didn’t want a straight son, 
liked me bent. 
Couldn’t understand why I’d like girls. 

That night I had a panic attack
and scratched my arms to pieces. 
Wanted to just run away
didn’t know what to do if I couldn’t tell my dads
what it was to love. 

She moved away when she turned seventeen 
to a new place down in the South
and I cried so much for her. 
Still do. 
I still do. 
Heard she died three weeks ago and that’s why I’m writing this. 
That someone could kill another just for 
having a heart and wanting to use it. 
Tears on a page are full of black ink. 
People still get beaten up for this. 
People still get stoned for this. 
People still get killed for this. 
This is me. 
This is life. 
This was us, you know? 
Reality’s nothing compared to grief
grief’s nothing compared to love. 
And I loved her. 
I loved her. 
Why does that matter?