The Mess You Made

I have a chest of memories, with multiple compartments
Most are on the surface, visible to everyone,
A certain few haven't been revealed in years

As you gain levels in our friendship, I give you access to more of these memories
I presume you do the same for me, because what is friendship if not sharing deep dark secrets and not being judged
But then something happens and you slink away

Leaving my chest open, all my memories strewn about
Leaving me to pick up the pieces and move on
Leaving me to clean up the mess you made

I hope you find another friend to confide your secrets to

But...

I hope you don't break their heart the way you broke mine
I hope they realize they aren't at fault when you move on, yet again

Assumption

Think about the way you emote when you speak

That upwards tilt of sarcasm

That high-pitch of curiosity

The break in your voice when you try to hold onto those tears

Take all of this on social media and none of it is projected

People misunderstand, people obfuscate

You're stuck at the cliff, all by yourself, instead of supported by a million others

All your kindness is taken for weakness

All your support is taken as a stunt

The next time you call someone problematic,

Keep all of this in mind, try a little tenderness

You both might be on the same side,

except you made a decision to assume too early.

Silence

I had my breakfast.
I gave up the button that started a liberal conversation,
I mourned the lack of freedom of speech,
I stopped talking.

I walk across campus, silent people everywhere
The look of despair on their faces, the feeling of helplessness in the air,
I empathized with them,
I had nothing to say.

One particular person helped me more than I could imagine,
They convinced me that I am still valid, that my thoughts are still important,
They cared for me, even if just for twenty minutes,
I spilled my secrets to a stranger tonight.

Just a Statistic

Love is universal, they say.
Then why does a kiss incite such a riot?
How does one live their life,
When they're too busy not getting killed by media or by society?

Tired of being a label, tired of being shunned,
Tired of seeing the numbers increase.
There go the people trying not to react to the Orlando news,
Because if you're not straight, you're just one of "those" people to them.

America is a land of opportunity, a land of hope,
Judging from the events, I guess that's true only if you're straight.
How do you display your Pride,
If you're playing a game of Truth or Die?

If this is the perfect life, then I do not want it,
Because apparently I would be just a statistic.