Gay is the color of red today-
Blood red.
The fifty dead, fifty-three injured
Down in Orlando.
Blood red and gay is the color
Today.
My fiancee checks her pulse
At the table,
During breakfast,
After grace.
She can't eat. "I feel sick,"
She says, and I hold her hand.
Gay is the color of red today-
Blood red.
They can't even donate red
Down in Orlando, 'cause they're gay.
"It's OK," I tell my fiancee.
"Hate won't come our way,"
As if I knew.
Hate is here today is what I know.
"I've never felt this scared
Of being gay," she paces
Heart knotted like laces from the news.
Blood red,
Fifty dead,
Fifty-three injured down in Orlando.
"No gay pride parade," she said.
"Nothing is happening to my baby."
She kisses my forehead, her forehead a frown.
"It's ok," I say. "Hate won't come our way."
As if I knew.
Hate is here today is what I know.
