Of the Same Year (1987)

We grew up warned that touch could be a tomb,
In health class, fear was taught before desire. 
We watched young men on screens condemned to doom,
And learned too soon to hide and tend our fire.

At fourteen, planes tore through a cloudless sky—
We flinched at rumors veiled in softer light. 
We watched love shift from whispers to a cry, 
Then louder still, until we won our rights. 

He wore a ring to please a world that stared, 
Gave vows that broke beneath the weight of shame. 
Now here we are, both bruised, both fully bared,
Two men who know its cost and love the same.

 We live as men who’ve lost and found their way, 
And wake to choose each other every day.