Home Poetry Hot Tears

Hot Tears


Hot Tears

They say, ‘gay men sleep around’,
the word’s synonymous with polygamy,
well if you push us underground
and surround us with vicious bigotry.

What else would you expect,
but a generation left traumatised
a society of men bereft
a theft of freedom, I’m not surprised.

A form of post traumatic stress,
six years of playing a part
in a world you understand less
the more you follow your heart.

For me, a night out in a bar,
a pub, a club, is not the same
it’s like a wound, a cut, a scar
is opened up, I hear my name

called, but I don’t reply
I’m feeling numb and drinking more,
I can laugh and smile and try
but my feet are at the door,

outside alone I search online
‘nearest gay bar’ ‘gay club near me’,
knowing exactly what I’ll find
and for the first time feeling free.

But I stay put, I feel afraid
I blink hot tears and cry a bit,
overthink choices yet to be made,
and fight the memory of being hit.

Oh yeah, for context I should say
last year I was attacked
as I kissed a man, because I’m gay,
homophobia still exists. Fact.

By Nick Slater

You can follow Nick Slater on Twitter.

Photo by Oliver Cole on Unsplash


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.