I was born from secrecy, into secrecy
I am in love with him but also so afraid
I love trying things on for him, letting him pick what I wear
I feel beautiful with him, and safe and happy
Above almost all I hate when I yearn for the past
“Death becomes you, motherfucker.” The worst thing I think I’ve ever said
“Were it about love I’d take both of you with me” my Father once said
I never saw him again, his absence shrouded in secrecy
Sometimes I feel him watching me from the past
When it all feels to be slipping backwards I am afraid
When I’m alone, approaching supersonic speed, I am happy
But these memories and recollections have begun to wear
I’ve longed to be with him but don’t know how or where
I know he’s loved me though these words he’s never said
How could we ever hope to truly make each other happy?
Why has his life and mine been filled with such secrecy?
When I looked in his eyes why was he not also afraid?
When will these thoughts no longer haunt me from the past?
Sometimes he’s clothed me in fashions from days now past
But he’s always selected such wonderful, girly things for me to wear
His tastes classy and though I’m selective, when he’s surprised me with new clothing I was not afraid
When dressed (or undressed) and I peered in his eyes there’s no need for anything to be said
Many of the things he’s given are for him alone, when we’re together in secrecy
Pleasing him so good, but how can it make me happy?
When I am seen and held and still, I am happy
The first time I saw him my gaze was drawn to him as he walked past
When alone with him, the day slips away and I cannot feel the secrecy
Often I’ve felt that his thoughts and feelings were only shared for me to wear
So many things felt but that never were said
So many moments, but some that left me afraid
All the days that have past, my decisions and reactions sometimes leave me afraid
Yet I can’t help but look back to find what there was that’s made me happy
You know I didn’t mean what I said
There’s nothing there for me yet everything leads to the past
So confronted with today how can I refuse the bygone day that offers itself up for me to wear?
But no matter the days, the months, the years I look back, I cannot escape this secrecy
I’ve said what I can, though calm I’m still afraid
I despise the secrecy yet without this security could I ever be happy?
The momentum of my past, where is it taking me, where?