Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Pride Month 2021, Writing

Flashback – Virgin Vogue

The pattern of the strobe,

followed the bass line,

mimicking the petrified pounding of my heart.

It didn’t have to be a big deal,

but it was me,


of course it was.

I have a habit of rising from my watery grave,

staring up at the stars,

and inventing reasons to be anxious,

about the simplest things.

I scorched the Earth,

in sensible heels,

on my way to break out of the chains I put myself in.

I was going to be free,

in a very subdued sense,

presenting my secrets to the underground wonderland,

with my heart in my throat,

and my throat in the clutches of my dream girl.

I don’t come here often,

but I plan on making a habit of it.

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