I can still remember what love felt like,
When winter became a warm spring day
And the streets were filled with
Children twirling parasols,
When everything was as delicate
As a butterfly in my hand,
Launching into the summer breeze,
And crisp autumn leaves
Cha cha’ed beneath our feet.
Those are no longer mine.
Winter’s cold embrace
Has torn through my heart and soul
Like a butcher’s hacking blade.
And I can never taste love again.
“You’re a racist,” he said. “And racists don’t get jobs here.” Tom swallowed. Nobody fucking calls me a racist, he thought. The interviewer started to put Tom's papers back into the brown manila folder. “And I’m gonna report you for discrimination,” Tom said. The interviewer laughed as he closed the folder. “You hate faggots,” Tom continued trying to force the point home. The interviewer smirked, “You haven’t got a leg to stand on.” “I’ll have these,” Tom said, and quickly took the papers and ran from the building. It had been two weeks since the interview with the faggot [...]