roses are red
night is dark
writing this poem
hurts my heart

shaky sobs
like violets, i'm blue
i'm wondering
why i ever loved you

you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.

I had a dream about you last night
You were so close to me I could almost touch you
My body was calling to you
Begging you to move closer
You would open your mouth to say something at the same time as me
But you would stop and smile to let me go
But I didn't have anything to say
What would I even say to you
You just kept waiting for me to say something
I woke with the smell of you on my breath

I remember the first time someone explained to me what the word gay meant.
We were in middle school
Playing on the swing set behind Stoy Elementary
"He’s so gay," she said
Bitter disgust poured out of her mouth with every syllable
I could not think as to why being happy could be such a horrible thing
And so I asked
My exact words being
“Whats so wrong with being happy?”
Now both my friends looked at me weird
“Don’t you know what gay means?”
“Doesn’t it mean to be happy?”
“You’re such a little kid, gay does not mean happy. Gay is a boy who likes another boy”
I stood there wondering why it mattered so much that a boy liked another boy;
why it was such a distasteful thing.
And why it meant gay couldn’t still mean happy.

I wish it were for attention
or an accident
or a phase.
It would be easier that way.
Maybe then
I wouldn't be scared
to love what I love
Who I love.
Her.

You are reading this
as I am navigating
my life and
my newly discovered
what has always been.

Trust me.
I'd much rather hide
behind her hair
and in my room
tucked away
alone, together.

But my heart yearns
to scream at the top of
my lungs
that I love her.
And to say,
**** the World
and whoever is not ready
for Us.

That
would be attention.
And I don't mind.