Na(HIV)PoWriMo ± April 30, 2018
Ramon Loyola Histories We were twelve, naïve, and the summers were long, when birds seemed to hum in rhythm with the silent passing clouds. You touched me there, where the skin smelled of the sun, and told me of a fate only we could have foreseen. We were nineteen, queer, and the rain fell for … [Read more…]