dearly and queerly

1. 

you beat everyone to

the punch

and branded yourself a

freak before you knew what

that word even really meant

 

but that didn’t matter

because, five days a week

you waited for the bus with

a bouquet of scotch broom

held in one small hand

 

picked sweetly and tenderly

for the pretty, pretty girl

with her long brown hair

and shine in her eyes

that always saved a seat

just for you

 

and she always took

those flowers, too

might even let you

hold her hand

 

and you didn’t know 

what it meant

at seven years old

but there were sparks

and butterflies and

you never wanted to

let go

 

2. 

 

but, kids can be cruel

and you remember the terror

crushing and suffocating

that came on the heels of

realizing you liked this girl

 

probably more than any

two girls should

have liked each other

you told yourself

 

trying to hold that part in

that knowledge of liking

someone of the same sex

but not feeling like that

was the right gender 

for you, either

 

and what is a child

supposed to do with that?

how can someone so young

expect themselves to have

the proper vocabulary to

express something so 

big and so new?

 

3. 

 

and you think of that girl

for the first time in 15 years

crying into the knuckles

held firmly in your chipped teeth

 

like there are enough tears

to wash out the

pain that still lingers from

feeling so wrong and dirty

for so many years

 

and you called yourself

a freak first

but, only to lessen the sting

that came with being called

worse things

 

like what was different

about you was so much

worse than wanting to

hold hands with a pretty, pretty girl

that saved you a seat

on the bus and would sometimes

let you hold her hand

 

4.

and you want to ask

what is so wrong with that,

who were you hurting,

being young and in

something akin to love?

 

and you want to ask

so many things

like how you were supposed to

know you could be gay

when no one ever said so

 

how were you to know

that a girl could love a girl

and a boy could love a boy

and there is beauty in that?

 

because, of course there is

there was beauty in your love

for that girl with the

long brown hair and soft smile

 

there was beauty in your 

knowing that if that girl had

asked and smiled at you just so

you would have stolen the

moon from the sky

just for her

 

5.

and you know so 

many things now

and only some of them

hurt enough to bring tears

to your tired eyes

 

and that’s okay, too

no one can blame you

for mourning over what

could have been

and could have been sooner

 

if only you had known

that your affection was

not only okay

but a thing to behold

to be proud of

 

6.

and you have loved

since that girl

sometimes wondering if she

remembers your name

 

and you have cried, too

out of fear and happiness

and heartbreak

like any good poet

must do

 

and you have grown

into yourself

into your being as a man

 

and you’ve got the scars

to prove it

thank you very much

 

and sometimes, when you

look at him

or her

or them

 

you are nothing more than

that child again

picking flowers for a pretty girl

because you know they will

make her smile

 

and that smile will

make your heart

grow wings 

every time