The Golden Childhood Of A Gay Boy

By Prajwal DJ

I notice the little spark in people’s eyes, When they’re asked to talk about

Their golden days of childhood lives. Days filled with sunshine and butterflies The jitters of first love,

And friendships,

full of Shenanigans.

And I wonder what people see,

In the eyes of the one,

Whose first love was all but himself,

After he’d discovered,

A forbidden nature of his true self.

I wonder if they notice the tiny drop

That escaped the tip of his eyes

As they hear him unburden,

Stories beyond belief,

Of a boy that didn’t belong;

In the boundaries set by the ones

Who are all too similar.

Do they follow his nervous gaze,

As he chokes on words,

To express the mind of,

The young child,

That he once was,

Bruised and scarred,

For a choice that he didn’t make.

Do they appreciate his newly fixed

Gleaming teeth and bright smiles

After he tell them,

of how they were knocked out,

When they learned of his

Secret that hid deep in the folds

Of Shame.

The secret

Of his gracious steps that put models to shame, Of his vivacious laughs,

That boys fell head over heels for

In girls.

Or of his ethereal voice,

That belonged in the house of Opera.

Do they wonder,

If they could find the strength to move At the end of his story;

Or do they just sit

Admiring his grit and perseverance To live and survive another day; Or do they look at this changed man, With an eye of bewilderment And wonder if he was the same one From the stories they heard.

Or do they pick up stones

And hurl abuses;

And wonder how he lived yet, With pain so inflicted.

And go back to their little shells Of a world filled with

Only Men and Women,

Who had golden childhood days And forget all about the first loves, That were not so straight.

By Prajwal DJ