if i showed you my skin
would you slit my naked throat
and let me bleed
till i was pale
and soft
and accomplished
and whole?
or would you hold me
in your sacred arms
in this knowing
we pretend is there
so that you stay?
would you scratch down
every word i uttered
from my lips
that sound like
the way they still taste:
like you?
would you let me die
in thought,
dazed by the beauty of your eyes
as you stare into mine;
i won’t notice your hands
quietly wrapped around my neck,
putting me down peacefully
and telling me
it’s okay?

or

would you let me sit with you
in silence
and know that
we don’t know,
but this moment
is quiet
and pure
and good?
and things
will be
okay.

Peace is just a tea break
between wars.
Make sure you have a sip
before you have to go.

The sixteen-year-old dishwasher at work told me she checks the schedule-hoping we’ll share the same shifts. She said she missed me when I took a day off.

A new hire said I have a “wholesome vibe,” like it was the kindest thing he could offer.

A new friend and I sat in his new room, talking about how hard it is to make friends as adults-how rare it is when it feels this easy.

My best friend, miles away, messages to say she got the postcard I sent. She says she loves me.

The one I’m dating tells me I can make mistakes without being a mistake.

A stranger-turned-friend listed all the things she liked about me-minutes after we met. I didn’t know what to say. I smile for hours.

My six-year-old cousins video call me, bursting with stories about their day with my parents. They wave a pride flag on a picnic blanket in the backyard, proud of their brave big cousin. They correct anyone who calls me by my deadname like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

My mom checks in.
She knows it’s been a heavy week.

My dad spends his free time under the hood of my car, my mom hands me her keys so I don’t have to worry.

I visit an old friend's memorial, tell him everything I wish I could have said in person. The wind listens. I think he does, too.

My best friend and I scream old songs in the car, drive to a park by the water, swing until we’re dizzy and aching, and laugh because we’re not kids anymore-but we still want to feel like it.

Another friend is moving out on his own. He asks me to help him make the space feel like home. I say yes, of course. It's an honor.

A best friend and I trade 'I miss yous' like warm hugs un words.

I buy concert tickets for another best friend. It’s one of my favorite artists. We’ll sing ourselves hoarse.

I text my childhood best friend: Happy Pride. Two words that carry years.

I go to a Pride party with my parents and friends. I feel the weight of belonging and it is light.

I plan to trade plants with a girl from work. Roots change hands. Something grows.

And for a moment-no, longer than a moment-I realize:I am overflowing with love.