I'm sorry that my back broke
when it was suddenly weighed down
by the ******* I no longer want
and that you had to pick up the
pieces of my spine, despite being
the second to know.

I regret that, in the aftermath,
there has been only regression
into my old habit of feeling a strong
itch coursing through my veins
and pulsing beneath my skin,
leaving me with fanciful thoughts
of scratching my skin raw.

But words cannot adequately
describe how badly I want
to figure out how to properly
thank you for being as amazing
as you are, never showing the
slightest hint of disappointment
that I've gotten back into old
habits of thinking far too much,
and holding my hand across the
tightrope of being genderqueer.

There are an infinite number
of ways in which I love you.