To mother:

The one who poured her blood and sweat upon

the bedsheets of my childhood--

the rustic floors, threatening to give way,

An apology long due.

 

I’m not sure I can find my

Mr. Right

the man of my dreams--

Chivalry till the end,

Gleaming with romantic fervor,

I’m sorry.

 

No I don’t think the two boys

Cuddling behind us--

Blue Sparks bouncing off each other,

Pride glistening with tears

is disgusting,

repulsive,

demeaning--diseased.

 

I really don’t know the

Correct Sexuality--

Please don’t like girls--

That you pleaded to the gods,

to rip open my wounds again and

Inject inside of me.

 

All I know,

All I’ve ever known is

To love.

Love the specks of dust left behind

In the dusk after the pouring rain--

The rainbow--

The flares of electric passion and desire

Radiating from the core of an imperfection--me

The urges, lust, need

To hold her hand

And squeeze back with quiet ferocity

To love--

To love the love you taught me to be

The love--that maybe one day--

You will love.