It's raining now. And I'm meant to be asleep. I'm thinking about all the girls I once knew and knew and all the guys too. Fittingly I'm injecting these words into my arm in black ink - druggie that I am - so that it will not look like the veins in my too pale skin and so that maybe I will remember this in the morning when things are important again.
I'm in that nowhere place not quite over the rainbow. No blue birds fly here. This is the domain of anxiety attacks and too real nightmares. The ones that come before lucid dreams that are grounded in my real life fears of growing old and alone because the boys sequestered in the school down the street think I'm a lesbian. I'm not. I'm bi. And those aren't the same things at all. I simply love. I am not closeted and I am not a whore as I'm sure the mother that is terrified of seeing a black boyfriend accompany me home at Thanksgiving would say. No, I simply love.
And as it rains, I think about what I would do when push comes to shove. I'm running out of room on my arms. These last lines will have to join the "Lucky You :)" I scrawled idly on my breast even though no one will see it before I wash it off unintentionally in the shower tomorrow morning. It's raining now in America. At my house which is not my home. Home is when I'm alone with you. A you that I do not know, yet whom I love. Whom I will marry in a January. Who will kiss me where I wrote "Lucky You :)". With simple love.
No comments:
Post a Comment