what i've really learned from church
she loves a woman but,
she still closes her eyes and bows her head to pray to
a god who i always thought
would never love me.
love thy neighbor but,
only if they have the
traditional kind of sex.
i've learned not to say his name,
forced blood soaked bread down my throat and,
don't stop to think twice.
i don't say HIS name because always
HIS name is in all caps like
it's screaming to me.
and me, not even knowing what i am,
learning online that i should love myself, and learning
through a man with nails in his skin to
hate myself.
so am i the bad guy?
i am told that these are the bad people, the ones that
force us to repent for
sins.
but then what about all the people here?
all the nice ones who
ask me about high school,
and the ones i've laughed with.
what i've really learned in church doesn't come from the altar or the broken books.
it doesn't come from sour organ melodies.
it comes from the notice nailed to my door like nails through the skin of jesus that
i am both a sinner and
a saint.