a boy made of gold, who

keeps his hair brushed back,

or not brushed at all,

I glued him to my identity

four years ago.

 

a boy singing lightly, he

hums notes that tickle the insides of my ear,

while I begin to close my eyes,

and I remember my apparent weakness

in needing him with me.

 

a boy craving love, so

he sings for me and anyone who'll listen,

hoping they'll hear the honesty he begs with,

I sense my platonic love for him,

and remember my bitterness without.

 

a boy whom I love, deciding

love is for those who need it,

so I cry, "we both need love",

although he lives with a deafness for my words,

and I know now, I need only love.