It would never be as simple as a word, unlike what I had planned. Maye liked to tell me that it could never have been because it never was. And I relent that to some extent that was the case, but it should not have been.
If she had heard what you were, I'm sure she would've slapped me senseless. Particularly for my foolish solidarity in who you were, considering I had dedicated myself to what you represented to me. As of now, I have no idea what that representation is, what it indicates.
REPRESENT: verb, to be a symbol or embodiment of a particular quality or thing
An intriguing notice, one that was not given. I am aware and acknowledge I was dubious to my own assumptions, but it was your intention to run over what little content I had left.
The beauty was irreplaceable.
Orange, purple, pink.
I used to shrivel at the thought of such freedoms. Now I find myself leaning against the frames of the old home, jugo de mango in hand. Perhaps the vibrance reflected on the shining glass, illuminating what was attainable. Regardless of attainability, it remained the conclusion: was I ready for it? If everyone becomes you, then do I stand a chance? The thought of the innocence colliding with the inability to conduct made me terrified, the hesitance behind my first step.
Besides the fact, the only replaceable artifact was you.
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
