sunny september day

the four of us at the lake

four girls in swimsuits and sun-soaked smiles

four almost-adults not yet ready to leave childhood and each other behind.

we sat in the water

as the day cooled around us

tossing rocks into the stillness and secrets into the silence.

she picked up a stone and handed it to me,

told me “don’t throw that one.”

i tucked it into my pocket.

when we ran back to our picnic table

i put the rock in my backpack.

we were getting chilly

it was getting late.

just one more perfect moment, please?

we stood in the parking lot and hugged

so tightly

so dizzily

that when we let go i thought i would

fall over.

nothing could ever be this good again.

on the way home i looked for the pebble in my backpack but

it was gone.

i guess that’s what happens when you

put your heart out in the open.

you lose track of it.

Careless

Is how I would describe you

And I mean it in the best way because it’s what

I admire about you.

I admire you.

You don’t seem to care what people think,

Even when you do

You don’t.

You don’t care what I think.

I think, I think—

You are beautiful.

Beauty:

I barely know the meaning of the word

If asked to define it I might call it

Confidence

Shimmery hair

Green eyes

Warm laughter, I might call it

You.

You.

You.

This feeling is endless.

Endless endless endless endless endless

endless

Crash. It’s ended.

you’re pretty in the sort of way that eyelashes and falling stars are pretty, in the sort of way that your curly hair falls down around your shoulders and that your eyes crinkle when you smile. you’re pretty in the way of the morning sun shining on wet grass and of the way it feels when i look at you a beat too long.

you’re powerful in the sort of way that a symphony is powerful, in the focused way you hold your arms when you conduct the silence. you’re powerful in the way of jawlines and cheekbones and feet-together-at-attention, in the way that when you laugh i can’t help but laugh also. you’re powerful in the sort of way that ocean tides and thunderstorms are powerful, in that i’d stand staring at the sky while lightning flirted with my hair and rain crept up to my knees because i may be on the edge of death but that doesn’t mean i can look away.

you’re delicate and immovable in the way that it seems as though if i touched you you’d shatter at the edges like ice, but i think you could break me with a touch, no need for a knife when you have your fingers.

you’re composed of careful, delicate lines and careful, focused energy and i am

captivated by you.

in short you’re beautiful, but that’s none of my business.

i'm still waiting for the

alarm

something to wake me up so i can remember that

this is all a dream.

some things are too good to be true

but only some

so mustn't there be things in this life that are so deeply

wonderful

joyous

euphoric

that i will never have to remember

it was only a dream?

there must be.

the alarm hasn't gone off yet

anyway.

you have no idea how often i say your name in my head, and how often my mind gets stuck on you.

you're the song that i listen to over and over at three a.m. trying to understand why i love it so much.

and it hurts because when i look at you you're no longer the only thing i can think of

because suddenly my mind is filled with all the reasons why i'm not good enough.

and if you saw that i wrote this you'd never guess that it was about you and that's why it hurts to think about you too hard.

you set my thoughts on fire and i'd lose myself in the smoke if you let me.

i haven’t seen you at all today and at this point i’m probably not going to.

it hurts more than it should.

we don’t

talk much anyway but somehow

it doesn’t matter because being around you is almost like sunshine.

not that you are a sunny person, but

when i’m with you my thoughts turn

blurry, as if melted by your warmth, my brain turns

fuzzy and my thoughts become

slow.

you are comfort.

it’s

hard to imagine that there will be a time when i

won’t bother imagining anymore

but i know such a time exists.

i mean, i’ll forget eventually, won’t i?

forget what this feeling feels like, what this feeling

felt like.

i can already feel it going, going--

and just like you, it's

gone.

is this the start of the rest of my life or the end of it?

the end comes when i let myself

stop feeling things when i

let myself keep forgetting that

the things we remember are not the only important things and the

things we forget are the things that used to matter to us

once upon a memory.

sunshine-soft lips leave lipstick-shaped kisses

on undeserving sandpaper-skin.

fingers brush honey-sweet over everywhere,

love tinted raspberry like

soft raspberry blush like

silky raspberry sheets like

the raspberry sky outside and

like raspberry-tinted lipstick-stained memories

of you.

Men are the societal default

Because men came first, because

Eve came from Adam’s rib, because

Adam came first.

And so men must come first, because

Flat-chest short-hair

Is androgynous, because

“Tomboys” are praised for not being like other girls because

“Other girls” are shallow and we must

Never be like those girls because

Masculine is always better and

When even females aren’t allowed to be feminine,

What is feminine?

Tomboys are praised for being “unique” while the

Lucygirls of the world

The little boys in dresses

The men in makeup

The queens, out for the night at a bar, never made it home

They are beaten down

Beaten up

Told “you’re not enough,” told

“You’re too much”

Too much for this world to handle, this

Narrow-minded world that

We will never admit is

Narrow-minded.

And so the

Shallow girls look in the mirror and

Put on their lipstick and

Brave the world in their armor.

Put on blush like a sword put on

Eyeliner like a shield and

Protect yourself from ugliness don’t be

Not enough,

While the unique girls insist

“We are not like them” and

Put on their jeans.

Put on shirts-long-enough-to-cover-your-stomach like

A different kind of armor and

Protect yourself from being seen.

Don’t be too open don’t be

Too feminine don’t be

The horror story meant to teach don’t be

The example in the article titled What to Do to Avoid Rape don’t be

Too much.

Meanwhile the queens put on their makeup

Put on their clinking jewelry,

Their armor catches the enemy off-guard long enough to

Maybe-escape because

They weren’t expecting this.

Put on your dress like

Fight back stand out rebel by succeeding and

Don your wig like

You never saw this coming.

But

There is no armor that’s safe there is no

Shield that guards no

Sword that protects.

The only armor here is

Cis men in t-shirts and pants, they don’t need any

Armor.

You don’t need any armor.

i can’t look at you

you’re too bright for people like me to look at

too bright

i would go blind.

i could stare at you all day

but not when you’re looking back at me

no, not when you’re looking at me.

except for that one time

i’d been crying and when you saw me

your sunshine softened into drips of warm honey

offered to me on a silver platter and i

feasted

on you

stared and stared

at you

because there was nothing else

nothing else to see or do

what would be the point of life outside this moment

outside your gaze?

someday i want to stare at your sun,

directly into your fiery core

and find out what does blindness feel like?

because i can’t imagine a price too big to pay

for you

and i would happily go blind

if it meant catching one more glimpse

of you.

You were always a good swimmer, weren’t you?

We would go to swimming lessons together when we were six and

I was always afraid to jump into the deep end but

You had no hesitation because

You knew you could handle it.

You would jump in and

Look back up at me with

Eyes still squinting closed from the water

Hair dripping wet and

Breath washed away by the sunlight dancing off your reflection,

Air rushing in and out like you couldn’t get enough of it, and

You’d hold out a hand and say

“What are you waiting for? Come on, it’s not that bad, I’ll catch you.”

And we both knew you wouldn’t be able to catch me but

I jumped in anyway because

I knew you’d never let me drown and anyway I

Couldn’t resist you.

You’d never let me drown.

But you were always the better swimmer and

Sometimes you have to save yourself first.

Anyway I’m rambling but now when I

See you I

Sometimes feel like I’m drowning.

I see six-year-old you with

Dripping-wet hair and

Out-stretched arms and

Sugar-sweet smile and

I see you now with

Hair that shimmers and

Eyes that look through me and

When you look at me I

Sometimes feel like you’re inspecting me

Under a microscope and you’re about to

Pull me apart and tell back to me all the things I’m too scared to admit

To myself and to the world.

You were never too scared to admit anything

And you were never ashamed

Not of yourself

Not of me.

Anyway I know you don’t think of me much anymore but

I see you sometimes and when I say hello you

Say hello back and it leaves me with a feeling like I

Don’t know if I’m flying or

Drowning.

You’d never let me drown

Unless my drowning meant that

You’d grow wings and

You already have them so

I guess it’s a lost cause and I guess

I’ll never know what it feels like to float and

I’ll never know what it feels like for you to catch me but

I know what it feels like to have you look up at me

Eyes full of chlorine and mirth and

I know what it feels like to drown on dry land because

I’m drowning in the memory of you and

We’re both helpless to stop it but

If this is drowning

It isn’t so bad.