Walking into the kitchen, where my mother's at.

I try my best not to turn red, or seem embarrassed that:

I have to tell her something-

Something she needs to hear,

but the very though of saying it

fills me up with fear.



She's noticed that I've entered, and greets me with a smile -

I smile back and beam at her - using all my guile.



Sitting on a stool, at the bar - 

facing her.

She gives me a searching look - 

my gut begins to stur...



My mouth is dry, and hands are moist - my fluids travelled south.

I'll take the time to muster up, the courage I need - 

to open my mouth...



She senses some thing's up - there must be something up...

She looks at me, and sips her tea - 

before setting down her cup.



                              ...Mum...erm...



The ... Thing ... is...



I don't know how to tell you.

I don't know what to say - 

I really need to tell you that:

your little boy is gay.

My bottles gone - 

I've lost my nerve -

I'll tell you another day.