An icy drip, blood colder than the subzero gusts
keeping you away and the noise in
knowing my life would spill out faster and farther
than when we sled down the hill that night

And I curled up underneath your sleek black coat
like the scared child I am
shaking withdrawals of hope

So it took me twelve months,
fifty-something weeks,
to understand that someone you want to sleep with
isn't the same as someone you want to wake up beside

You've said it yourself that you enjoy waking with me
taking the smallest sliver of your bed
(and if I take more, I'll hear about it come sun rise
and our laughter will chime)
Not only am I yours, but you are mine.

The boy who clicks off the light, reads on the couch, to let sleep consume me-- or who reads beside me, metal-frames dipping low
while his eyes pour over the page.

The boy who tucks me in, acquiescing the blanket softer than peach fuzz-- like the ambrosial peaches his grandmother gifted him in the winter and he shared sweet.

The boy who always makes sure to kiss me good-bye
and fills the room with jazzy notes-- because they represent me,
though he never liked jazz much at all before.

The boy who asked me to wake him if I go somewhere because he'd prefer me to remain beside him, but he understands I have things I need to do, so he cannot always wake beside me,
a weight he can handle.

It does not match the boy who told me he does not love me,
though he likes me, and I am haunted by hollow translations
that force me to delicately dance around a swear word in the
English language like "love".

It does not match the boy who said we wouldn't have much of a relationship without ***, and I am haunted by uncertainties of my convenience that force me to stumble with the hope that our
past does not define our present.

How I feel about you, through my actions, through my words, are truer than any logic, but that might not matter
because the boy does not want to hear words that have
a weight greater than he can handle.

I can't fall asleep on the couch this year
eyes out of focus on our tree bursting with history
but only the parts appropriate for them to perceive as reality
the silver beads glow golden draped across every branch

How can I miss an unreturnable place that was never a home
Here or there, lonesomeness would not ease, but because I don't
want to brace this Chicago winter alone, deep blue that passes for deep green cloaks across my ribs still aching with every breath

It seems a silly, foolish thing: obscure
abstracted expectations heeded sure.
However, comfort found or shred in thread,
defiance! Liberation for the dead
to overthrow, reject, deny decrees
imposed from fears that freedom means disease.
Because it chokes, barbed-wire laceration
began with shouts of divine damnation,
outpours a strangled, blood-laced river with
no end—laws unaware of gender’s myth.

To them, I am a thing one can acquire.
Behind eyes worn,  I tire— Oh! How I tire
of worth and value foisted most unjust.
Disgust conceals (reveals) clandestine lust;
they loved (and also often hated) me
for what I am and what I never will be.

I marveled at the stitches
Held your hand, grip tight like the taut strings carefully unraveled
Clockwork, I tended to the wounds
paler lit just by the moon
Heartwork, I kissed the scars

I numbly focus on the void
Unaided and desensitized to the ceaseless ache
Clockwork, you neglect me till I anticipate I will break
a hollow space carved into my chest darkens day by day
Heartwork, you actively exhibit my unimportance to you

I marveled at the stitches
Silk securing skin, uncertainty in the cell structure’s very safety
Clockwork, you asked for me to tend to the wounds
paler lit just by the moon
Heartwork, you smiled when I kissed the scars

What does it matter if I chose to wear a ring
Silver and cold-blooded, fought hard to receive
To symbolize the one coiled around my heart

If I chose to order a drink
Of the poem you recite with smile and splendor
To symbolize you, miles away, my new year’s wish

If I chose to remain in your bed that morning
After your insensitive and heart-constricting decision
to symbolize a commitment to communication and forgiveness

If I chose to lock eyes and arms with you
In a hall teeming with energy contradictory to the average age
To symbolize overwriting painful past through contraband

What does it matter that I chose you
Implicitly and explicitly and wholly
if you didn’t choose me?