by Robert Gould
I can’t hate you more than you hated me.
Unlike you, he kisses me in public;
I shook when he did it for the first time
in a crowded street, under Christmas lights.
I was afraid of what people would think,
of the contortions their faces would make
when they saw what I had always hidden
behind closed doors, between cold sheets.
He felt no shame in being seen with me,
and yet he couldn’t wait to take me home.
And I don’t care if this lasts forever,
or if it fades as fast as your love did.
It’s enough to know that I can be loved
like I deserve to be – in broad daylight.