I feel some new urge, and tender.
Through my bones, tempered
But by what? My past? Men say that,
Sometimes, while they drink.
Making fun of those boys they walk past on the street,
Who look too much like they looked,
And they say,  𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛
Never again will I fall in love,
Like I fell in love with her.
My future then,
That I see in my derams,
Where my arms are wrapped around him.
And his hair is long,
And his body is warm,
And his voice has a soft lilt in saying,
𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢;
As if we weren't in bed together,
Someplace where it always rains.

To get the scent of my suffering deep
In my nostrils and hold it
Like rosewater perfume.
To forgive my mother, someday.
I get a new urge, and tender,
Pulling apart at the seams.
There is the seed of it,
Glimmering, hopeful,
Lost not in the dying embers of
Waking up lonely,
In such a faltering world.