out behind the town
there's a field between
the trees, growing dead
grass and at 7:03 just
before sunset, it bleached
itself in white then faded
to a soft cornsilk, and the
gnats weren't gnats anymore,
but specks of gold casting
threads of shadows in the
light fuzz and while no
one saw, I sparkled.

i am so shattered--
parts of me are
2159 miles away
and i am scared
they will never
come back

I have a hundred diary entries
that start with your name and a
hundred endings asking for help
a hundred theories on why your
response was so crass, a hundred
scenarios where I only say I'm sorry
I'm so, so sorry a repeated thought
where I despair over never being able
to talk cordially with you again, I don't
know why I care, why that photo struck
a lofty chord, why your beard bugs me so
much, see: June 2013.

it was an incredibly
sad thought that hid
itself well, almost didn't
catch it--I wished I were
a boy when I love being
a girl, as if the amount of
self-loathing I expend would
disintegrate if I were a different
gender.