When We Broke Up

When we broke up

you started calling things

“gay” again.

 

And,

my dear,

of all the simple birds in the sky, 
the mad ones and

the purple colors, 
I stand before the gazes like

I stand before the back hall comments:

uncertain and fleeting.

 I used to throw plaster over my organs 
that govern my emotions,

and you lost a sense of activism

and a heart chamber

when you lost me.

The plaster hurt and it covered, 
but without the plaster

I was “gay”.

Simple birds fleet from a human gaze, 

and simple birds place plaster

over their pigeon feathers
but I no longer feel like a simple bird.

 

I will raise my neck

and my aching breastbones

up to the sky,

and I will support

the kind of love that

I see as fitting

to my own body.

It’s my body.

 

And maybe

to their lunch-table mouths

“gay” means

eggshells

but to me,

it means every shade

of a sunset that looms

over an ocean of

people

whose skeletal structures

have identical

bone marrow.

 

When we broke up,

I saw why we broke up,

And I coughed out

the plaster holding

 my heart in place,

and that was when I was able

to be a songbird.

 

A songbird of

simple pleasures

and wide-eyed love making.

A songbird of

hello nice to meet you’s

between dark and spitty coffee

next to people that let me

brush my hair in my own pattern.

People of my gender,

who listen to music backwards

to hear a new guitar of truth

and kiss long eyelashes

because beauty

manifests within my

navy button up shirts that

are shared between unbuttoned

and re-buttoned jeans

and crowns.

 

I hope that you find yourself,

because no one remains

a simple and

a song-less bird

for their entire

wingspan.

 

One day you will

remember what it felt like

to tweet and prance and sing

with the word “gay”,

instead of spitting

and choking

it out like girded

and rotting birdseed

underneath and below the

high school bleachers

with your vulture hands

and raven tones.

 

 

 

But,

even though we broke up,

I know

you were meant to

have a song.

 

I hope to hear it one day.

 

Reviews

[Lluvs]

This was so beautifully written! "...I know you were meant to sing a song. I hope you hear it one day." Powerful! Really enjoyed reading this (:

[Inject Positivity]

There is a melancholic tone and a memory of deep love in this spectacular poem.....Thumbs up!!!!!!

[Riley]

i hope they hear it too! very good work! passionate and confident

[Bohrium Guy]

Good imagery and emotions were felt here. You subjected well how you felt and how the flow in your mind went to pen. I enjoyed this piece and can oh so relate. Thanks for sharing this.

~Rob~

[Richard]

again ... real really good