He offered, "isn't that just as valid?" with
tired circles under his eyes
and his dark vinyl-shiny curly hair
and the silly smirks, and those coffee hands.
What a disappointment, I think to myself,
that I could have ever wanted to fit that body
into mine. Jig-jag-saw-like, scraping,
punitive, masochistic, I understand rejection like
lyrics, like the depth of black, like a password.