Warrior Heart.

And he has a warrior heart

as he listens to the music play and the women spin in lights and diamonds and hollow

beauty, but all he sees is the gentleman seated beside him with his

palm extended near his own, generating electrifying currents and Summer heat

sending his body into invisible quivers, yet he’ll still take her hand

and enchant her on the dance floor, joining her in an array of spinning lights and

diamonds and one- way waves of life and love-

if only she’d look into his eyes and truly see that the longing which lingers there

is a longing for freedom or a moment where the world would pause,

and questioning eyes and religion would evaporate as he glided in the steady arms

of a man on the dance floor, promising love and safety and love, and love-

but that isn’t the longing that she’ll see when she

looks into his eyes and sees her reflection.

And he has a warrior heart

not because he’s afraid but because he once told his mother and his father

that he’d be a man, and would sacrifice his world for them

and the god that had blessed them with his love and prosperity,

so he prays to god five times a day, not that he’d be straight-

no, those prayers have long dried and crusted on his desperate lips-

but that he could have the strength of a man to face the new light and see his entire family

showered in pride and endless smiles

as he takes her hand and walks her down the isle.

[For Moe.]

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