To the man on the street that called my ex girlfriend and I ******, I forgive you. We were nineteen and in love, I’m sorry that you were raised in a way that made you look at two girls holding hands and laughing as something that wasn’t to be shown in public. I’m sorry that my happiness made you feel insecure in that moment. My happiness was not on display to offend you. My love life was never an act of rebellion against you. I will forgive you for how you were raised but I will not apologize for showing love in a way you don’t deem appropriate for wandering eyes.

To the people I went to high school with, I’m sorry I never heard the rumours you spread about me until you were already out of my life. I’m sure you meant to break my heart when you called me **** in the hallways but your words never made their way back to me. Your aggression towards who I chose to love never stopped me from falling in love with girls I never imagined could be real. I refuse to hide away my love. I will not let your words shame me back into the closet I was scared to admit I was stuck in.

To the people who used to send me anonymous messages telling me to **** myself I hope you’re in a better place now. I often think about how my big secret made you so upset that you couldn’t stand to live in the same world as me. I’m not sorry that I’m still here now. I still feel sorry that you were so sad with yourself that you needed to make me feel as hopeless as you were.

To the people who voted no towards same *** marriage but watch ******* girl ****, I’m sorry my love is only okay when it’s for your pleasure. I’m sorry that you have such a skewed view on life that you see women as objects and not as people. I would forgive you but I don’t think you’d fess to your wrongdoing to be forgiven. There is nothing to forgive if someone won’t admit that they are wrong.

I’m twenty three now and I’m still not sorry for writing love poems about beautiful girls. I have stopped apologizing for being something that I’m proud of. I no longer hide behind my assumed heterosexuality. I proudly proclaim my attraction to women because I spent too many years being ashamed of being in love. I will never again sweep hatred under the rug to keep peace. I have never needed your approval for my love to be valid and I never will.

For once I would like to be longed for. I have spent countless hours of my life yearning for love from people who did not know how to accept mine. I have been told time and time again that not everybody will understand the way I love. Not everyone holds their hearts in the same regard as I do so they do not know how to return my love back to me. Over time I started confessing my love in front of mirrors, my reflection both the sender and the recipient of my love letters.

For once I would like to be the girl you dream about. I want to be on the receiving end of smiles from bubbly girls. I long to be the one to make brooding boys laugh. I am the only one writing poems about strangers I see in the streets. I make playlists for my best friend to tell her I love her but never send them. My love has been rejected too many times to take chances. I have accepted that maybe I’m only meant to dish out love like donations. My heart is spare change in empty coffee cups on busy city sidewalks.

For once I would like to be loved. Not just liked. Not just a fling or a fleeting thought or another notch on another persons bedpost. I want someone to think of me in the same way I think of them. I want someone to look at me and see a spark. A possibility. A future that’s worth working for. I would like to be on the receiving end of goodnight texts sent long after I’ve already fallen asleep, so when morning comes I can know I’m on someone’s mind even when I’m not present. Maybe someday I’ll be the girl you hear about in love songs but for now I’ll keep writing love letters I never send. Spilled ink will never hurt as deeply as watching someone you love not love you back.

I have always been weary
of putting names in my poems
in fear that I will never be able to take
my confessions back
but when is a good day to tell you
that I have loved you in every lifetime

In the past we were entangled in each other

One life we were shooting stars
another we laid lazily in fields of wildflowers
a love too strong to explain through words
so we didn’t speak
instead you embodied the beauty of spring
a way to remind us of those April days
when nothing existed outside of each other

We hid our love behind buttercups and daisies
maybe that’s why I love to bring you flowers
to feel the flicker of a spark we shared
in a lifetime so long ago

In another lifetime we read quietly together
over coffee in smoky French cafe’s
we underlined passages
that we would read each other in secret
our love withstanding a time
when it was criminal to look at one another
with the type of love we shared

I don’t know if I have ever loved you loudly
there are no muscle memories
of me shouting your name from rooftops
or unapologetically holding your hand
without fear of repercussions
—even now I don’t know how to form the words
“I love you”
without looking around to see who’s listening
even after all this time I love you in secret
I still can’t put your name in my poems
but i promise in one of our lifetimes
I’ll write your name in every poem
and tell you that I’m in love with you out loud
someday the words
won’t feel stuck in my throat
but I hope that’s in a lifetime sooner than later