TW: death, sex, pain
I loved Giovanni
I loved his name, the way he spoke, the way he thought, the way he pulled us in deep
The way he fell in love
With David
The way he became obsessed
With a man who could never love him back, who would never let himself
Love him back.
A man who was trapped in an adamant society
Trapped in a skin of superficiality, a skin of ignorance
A man confined to a rigid role, a rigid reality
A man confined to the Garden of Eden
A man unwilling to bear with the beast
Within himself
A man who could only live within himself,
Or that beast would awaken.
A man inextricably bound to his author
Inextricably bound to me.
They fell in love in Giovanni’s Room.
A small room, strewn with empty bottles
Cardboard boxes
Heavy red wine, seeping on the floor
String
Leather
Concrete
Filth
A mess
In here, Giovanni was rotting.
This was the evidence of his turmoil
His torment
The grief of his sex
The pain of his past
In here their love sprouted
In here their love died
Died within the disorder
Of that wretched room
Died in the denial
Died because they were trapped
Died because neither could escape the other
Died because neither could face himself
And so we pushed away Giovanni
Because he was too much
Because he had liberated himself
While we continued to lie to ourselves
His liberation cost his life
Giovanni knew
That we loved our purity
That we loved being clean
That we loved to deny
Deny our pain
Deny our desires
Deny our love
Deny the death of our innocence
Giovanni knew we would forever be trapped
In his room
We are trapped
Because Giovanni didn’t die at the guillotine
He still lives in our turmoil and torment
Every there is Giovanni
We revolted and repudiated
We couldn’t run from his room
Baldwin knew
“Nobody can stay in the garden of Eden”
David, Baldwin, and Me
“Au revoir, Giovanni.”
Editors: Chris F., Nicole O.