I do not know how to say what I am. Label me if you must.
All I know is this:
Nobody loves women as much as I love women.
Not only do I want to look at her
I cannot stop.
My eyes start to bleed
My heart begins to (tear) drop.
My skin turns to scales
I become the sand
When I wonder
What man is lucky enough to become parched?
I placed the bookmark between the pages
I creased the corner on the page
with directions to my heart.
I painted a picture of my soul
for the cover.
I handed her the book
I thought she was the one who would master the fluency of my Love.
Did I mistake her authenticity?
Is she a chameleon?
I had the power to stop it.
How can I claim to be powerless?
The promises of binding me, tying me with a ball and chain
My ears try to convince my mind.
My heart and body here to remind me
Potential is a knife
embedded in my heart.
Not a toy
I wanted to immortalize her
But now I am tired of talking.
As a professional, I have two degrees, one in Paramedicine and another in Applied Management. I have no formal writing education outside of High School and required courses for my degrees. As a person, I am queer, non-binary, and a special needs parent. I love hard and deeply and have always used my voice to advocate. Aside from those characteristics and experiences, I am also a hopeless romantic. It has been painful at times, but I can’t change it. So I decided to write about it.