i remember when the act
of holding hands was
scary
not because of the
threat of two hearts
meeting that might
one day tear each
other apart
but because being
seen meant
being beaten
i remember the
trembling and worry
the sideways glances
and shame that crept
crimson from my cheeks
to my ears when i
looked down, away
from the questioning stares
and now
though we know
the danger
has not passed
here we are
backs straight
hands clasped
laughing
eyes forward
challenging
it is something.