Maybe it was the way I told you.
I rolled my sexuality off the tongue
like sweet milk and honey.
Saying it so casually
I might as well have hands stuck
between pockets of worn in grey sweatpants
complimented with a deep v that goes
down to my belly button.
I said it like the spoken version
of a sticky note
written with my best chicken scratch.
I guess I didn't say it with any more girth
because I felt like I didn't have to.
The picture in my head was
like a short silent film from the 1920's
that only needed two cards
to show what we were saying.
The first saying "I'm not straight",
the second saying "Okay."
Okay as in that's totally normal.
Okay as in I'm happy you've found yourself
Okay as in I'm glad you're comfortable with your sexuality.
Okay as in not a celebration or a witch hunt.
I was not expecting what came after.
Telling me that I was just trying to fit in.
That I didn't know myself well enough.
That I'm a liar.
That I can't be attracted to every gender.
That I'm selfish.
That I had to wait for the "right man".
Comments pouring onto me like a cold shower
entering old wounds
that stung with every syllable
and you got mad when I wanted to get out of the bath
Of course I would get upset
with words trying to make me
disregard the day when I found myself
after long nights
of locking myself under bed sheets
feeling confused and not knowing
how to answer questions I'd ask myself in the mirror.
In someways I don't blame you.
You didn't hear the past in my voice.
You didn't hear the storm
only the calm winds.

But it still hurt,
because these bitter words
flowed from the people
who were supposed to love and support me the most.