At school, we’re taught how to read
and write.
The first thing most children will remember writing
is their name:
“Hello. My name is…”
I wonder if ‘becoming’ autistic changes that.

When you find yourself reminiscing
that last moment of happiness,
take comfort in knowing life
could have been harder.

Every black eye, every use of the words
‘spastic’, ‘******’, ‘loony’,
Every litany of insults, blood,
sweat, tears
is a sign

there is still much left to learn.

We will never finish this journey
if we never start it.

I remember your face, your laugh,
sitting on a park bench and telling jokes,
feeling like the whole world finally
made sense.
The sweat drizzled down my back and that stutter…
but you didn’t mind.
I dare you, I dare you to speak my name
when my affection wasn’t enough for you,
and that’s all I wanted,
to love you,
to look into your eyes and know you felt it too,
to hold you like a child, so innocent, so pure.
Your laughter will stay with me forever
like the songs I listen to on repeat
always reminding me of my guilt,
my pettiness.
But you my friend,
I want you to have everything.
You deserved better,  and I just wasn't enough for you.