Isabel Allende, from The House of The Spirits

James Baldwin, from Giovanni’s Room

Andrea Gibson

Men who whimper, Men who cry

Men who God will not let die

Men who straight up fucking suck

Men I would hit with my truck

Tired

by Langston Hughes

I am so tired of waiting, Aren't you, For the world to become good And beautiful and kind? Let us take a knife And cut the world in two- And see what worms are eating At the rind.

“you will never be too much for someone who can’t get enough of you.”

— Unknown

kinder than man, athea davis

“The opposite of love is not hate; it’s indifference.”

— Elie Wiesel

it isn't really complicated, but i still can't tell my grandma about it. my girlfriend is also my boyfriend and i'm her girlboyfriend and there are a lot of days this feels like smoothing sheets over a good mattress. it feels like getting a cup of good hot chocolate. we paint our nails lesbian flag pink, and i watch her eyelashes make shadows on her cheeks. she wants to kiss me because i am really good at baking, and i want to kiss her because when i am freaked out about how i spilled coffee, she just hands me extra napkins and helps me clean. he is so handsome i want to eat my fist. they once just winked at me and i couldn't talk for like the next fifteen minutes.

i haven't seen the L word and i was raised catholic. my earliest experiences with queer relationships were through harrowing conversations and hushed questions and blood on the ground. i didn't like boys soon enough. what, are you gay? asked to a 6th grader, almost like a demand.

when she is asleep next to me and i can feel the dreams run up and down her body, i pretend we are both somewhere in the stars. i like to picture a future full of fruit trees, and writing him poetry. sometimes she wakes up, has a whole conversation with me, goes back to sleep, and utterly forgets that we ever even spoke. she is always kind to me, even in that liminal half-there ghost. i like the croaked, raw way her voice sounds in the very-early morning, the way she always seems surprised i'm still here, and home.

on the internet, there are a lot of people who would be annoyed by both of us, and how labels must be pruned into orchids. a box has to hold and define the insides. people must be organized.

we went on a date last night, and the host said, oh, table for 2 nice ladies? neither of us are ladies, but also we are very much 2 nice ladies. i have been wearing her sweater nonstop. he has frequently been forced into wearing my taylor swift official merch quarter-zip because i was worried about him catching a chill, and you simply cannot be cool in an official taylor swift quarter-zip. do not worry: they listen to better music than i do, and their voice sounds like leaves falling.

i wear the skirts and makeup and i am better with spackle and know how to drive stick. recently someone commented on my work - you're just a man trying to reappropriate lesbian spaces. sometimes i feel like she is a clementine to me, and sometimes i feel like he is a german shepherd and sometimes i feel they are a bird. i like watching his hands over a guitar. can i write this poem, even? how can you be a lesbian if you're sometimes with a man? or you are the man?

how can i, huh. you know, our first date lasted 3 days. we'd been flirting for over a year before i finally asked her out. i'd already written her into poetry. she'd already written me into songs.

last night, in the late night, when they woke up again, confused about where they were, they said - oh, thank god. this is your arm. there's just something so precious to me about the specifics, the denotation that the arm was (thank god!) mine. i really liked that definition. i liked the obvious relief because i understand it.

i say yeah, i have a partner. i mean - oh. thank god. it's your arm.

what's the opposite of feeling sand slip through your fingers because I feel this poem more and more as time passes

solace

was that suffering,

hiding behind your smile?

i've known the same pain.

—

if it's not too much to ask,

may i suffer beside you?

unhelpful hugs

when you say that you're

in pain, my first instinct is

to hug you, but that

probably wouldn't help with

bronchitis in any way

Rain pours from the fall

storms, cascading down the stairs

reaching to heaven

On love

Eurydice (Sarah Ruhl); Liana Rādulescu ; “Spending More Time” (Ron Hicks); Song of Achilles (Madeline Miller) ; It’s Been a Long, Long Time (Harry James, Kitty Kallen); Unknown ; Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 1 (Shakespeare); Six of Crows (Leigh Bardugo); Unknown, Quora ; Eurydice (Sarah Ruhl)