Post-Pride

We were supposed to be proud. To celebrate, then return to hope. But instead, I watched a war I didn’t start, steal the life I almost had. I saw myself and the man I love—naked, tender, destroyed—lying in the rubble of a country that never wanted us alive. In a world where love is mistaken for weakness, where intimacy is feared more than violence, we become targets. People kill what threatens their power, and love—honest, open, unashamed love—terrifies them most. And yet, despite all efforts, the body survives. It stays. It mourns the life it could’ve lived. It learns to keep breathing in a place that keeps trying to silence and kill it.

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