The Psyche of a gay Muslim By Bashir Al-hamim for my friend
I first saw him and was struck by his soulful eyes, he a round melancholy face
He wore an 80’s porn star style moustache back in the 50’s
He was the silent type never talking always observing the world
He was a fierce man of passion; we loved but never committed the act of love with me
He was afraid he’d burn in hell for being true to himself
He was drinking Coco in Paris when I first saw him, ahh those round brown lips
I think back to that moment and repeat to myself on how beautiful he was
Once a year for forty years we met in this small musty smelling café and loved
He was a poet of sorts a fellow truly never at home in this world
For years we always stayed in a damp cold hotel, for years I begged him to hold me for years he refused, but he did love me thou he never spoke the words
When we first met he was a chain smoking fool with suicidal thoughts

Recent comments
3 weeks 5 hours ago
3 weeks 5 hours ago
4 weeks 5 hours ago
5 weeks 2 days ago
5 weeks 4 days ago
8 weeks 3 days ago
8 weeks 5 days ago
10 weeks 2 days ago
10 weeks 5 days ago
11 weeks 7 hours ago