i had a kind face, and the kind of smile
only a brother could love
and read beyond the teeth,
biting back bitter amusements
of a broken, brooding boy
you were mine; not in blood but in love,
and we were too small and too young
with too much and not enough
of everything.
brother.
“brother”
bromance.
the lie of the year,
and we had many.
i had chronic denial and you had chronic rejection.
if we said we saw ourselves as siblings,
it would all go away.
my brother from another mother
not a brother at all, but a lie
the hidden gay.
i had a kind face, but you were kind
and i wanted to be that
for you, a light against the shadowy history
the trajectory from ruin to wholeheartedness
you were already wholehearted,
and wholeheartedly in.
brother, i ruined you by calling you brother
with my fear of our friendship: the trajectory from friends to more
now everything between us is gone
and it still feels rather sore
even though i don’t love you anymore
