I dream about writing you a love poem
One that is not misted over.
One that is not about him
But you, my beloved,
Because you are the only thing that I have ever wanted and I am tired of being so shy.

But this is hard.
This is even harder than  I thought it would be.
I am staring at the her at the end of my first sentence and trying to figure out how it will sound when it finally breaks free from lips.
I imagine it will coat my ******* strange new liberation and we will both rejoice.

 I refuse to write of you equivocally
And blend you into a neutral they
Or let yet another poem fall to chagrin.
I will not let shame cast shadows on our glorious love
No declararion of the truth could ever be an aberration.

So I write this love poem to you.
I do not scribble you deep into the binding or dust you lightly across my untruthful words.
I want to stain these pages with the red ink with our love.
You are not my secret to keep anymore.
You are the color I want to paint the sky.

My sexuality isn't something you get to determine.

Nor something you get to judge me for.

Nor something you get to passive-aggressively hate on.

My sexuality is, however, something wonderful.

It is fluid.

It is something I am discovering uninhibitedly.

There is no need to define it.

Plus, trying to define it is what has caused

me untold anguish in the past anyway.

I wonder what it's like to be you,
Who are you in moments of quiet?
Why do you search it but revel in chaos?
You are a question unanswered,
A mystery many have tried to solve,
and fell to their deaths as they did so,

You are more than a woman,
a curiosity never sated,
a love never fulfilled,
and a lust that consumes my every waking moment.

I know you, what you show me anyway,
and I ache to know more.

When will you hear me?
Do I wait or make you listen?

Or shall I keep you on this pedestal?
Like the far reaching stars,
A beautiful light that I'll never touch...

I told myself not to think about you again
I waited this long for my heart to mend
But when your eyes charr into mine
I fall
   fall
     fall—
treacherous.

And I fall
    fall
       fall—
precarious.

And i fall and fall and fall and—
I choose to be perilous
I choose to be hurt
I choose our love, incredulous
And I opt for the painful curt

Oh no!
What have I done?
This is madness,
And it's only just begun.
Quick, abort the mission!
Before it's far too late!
How could I end up liking,
A girl that's obviously straight?
She's not homophobic
But she wouldn't accept me
Oh no, oh no, oh no
I've got to set myself free!
Even if I have to lie to my brain
I've got to pull back these reins!

She's not pretty!
Oh yes she is
She's not nice!
Is that what you're trying to fool me with?
She's chubby!
So are you sweetie, and we both know she's not
She's a real ****!
That arguments' already been shot
She's short!
You don't seem to care
She's not my type!
Now, who are you trying to fool here?
Her hair's too long!
Now you're just grasping at straws
Her morals are all wrong!
Aren't those your flaws?

I've tried my best
But I know it's not true
My brain is quite smart
Aw, sweetie, thank you
I'm not going to get rid of this
The way I normally do
It seems this crush is a bit stuck
This isn't just a crush dear, get a clue
So I suppose I may panic,
Because this situation blows.
And in case I've not said it enough-
Oh no, oh no, oh no!

I'm a lot gayer than originally planned.
*******. Gay.
But I'm worried about the concept;
not sure if it's right to use the word
“gay”
when (I'm sorry I said it)
I'm really bisexual,
just particularly into women right now.
Like,
is that bad representation
of my sexuality?
Only encouraging
bi-erasure?
It just doesn't have the same
“umph”
to say
I'm feeling particularly
bisexual today.
But I've been telling myself
over and over
that it's okay,
no matter what
I'm feeling today.
I don't
need
your
box

anymore.