do i crave sex for its physical validation as a replacement for my emotional inabilities? yes. am I also wildly bi and wildly confused? yes.
here's to a boy, simultaneously, oddly similar and different. the other side of a coin found from its hiding place behind couch pillows.
* * *
August 2020
"You love like a dragon," he says, eyes blue and open. His hair is gold, his heart perhaps not so. Dragons like shiny trinkets, regardless, and the covetousness and need to possess has never been stronger.
He is hewn of salt, a rough cut and haphazard slash in a glittering expanse of demonic intention. I love like a dragon because I am forged of fire, and what little pride I have in myself I am willing to burn just to feel the heat.
He pushes and stings against raw, torn flesh. Too new, too tender, and somehow too neglected to be tried, but when has that ever mattered? A dragon can want. A dragon will want. But ask for the world, and it's yours, the flaxen-haired boy knows. He seems different and indifferent.
Coiling and unfurling, I seek a landscape that feels like Eden, happily wrapped in primordial tremors. Is it euphoria or doom, or are they, like has always been suggested, one and the same? Have men had it right this whole time?
"You love —" and that's all he can say because he and I are so enamored, I by his sunlit hair and he by my darkness, writhing against one another like grappling Furies. To hold seems more intimate than to know, and I am perhaps content in my knowledge of him. He is perhaps content in his ignorance of my ugly depth. A boyish, if not self-aware ignorance.
I love like a dragon, talons extended and mouth poised to spit flames, because if I don't, I will cease to have reason.
YOU ARE READING
The Unfinished
Poetry"Justice to my words." The unsaid thoughts that bloom feverishly. An ongoing journey of one person's love and her reflections as time passes.
