hockey, faggotry, mental illness
the haze breaks through itself,
filling my chest,
weighing my shoulders.
the fog wants to roll in
to tuck in the bay.
but my bridge lays naked,
steel and concrete weeping;
the clarity unwelcome
your soft breaths, your warm skin
(i close your mouth when you snore)
if the sun rises, just stay in
and keep your vision underwater.
i stop writing about my feelings;
they diffuse into the air
instead of forming a cavity.
my fingers smell like smoke;
yours, slightly of tamarind
happy valentine’s day.
on my tv
we watched two girls fall in love
with each other
and i saw you glance at me
your shirt pulled down over your jeans
maybe i kicked you out too early.
when we talked again i said i shouldn’t have.
and you agreed.
i made my bed before you came
maybe i should’ve played a song for you
“who stole your heart?”
you asked.
“i dunno.”
i lied.
“a baby!”
a friend said.
but we both knew
that you’re my baby
it is ... infuriating
how many poems
i have written
already
about you
you love me,
you love me not
have you listened to mitski?
because i’ve noticed
you only ever smoke
when you’re with me.
i love you,
i love you not
i’m picking flowers
and plucking off petals
by the hundreds
repeating myself
he loves me,
he loves me not
///
and you said that i could stay the night
and i was ready to sleep on the couch
and you only insisted i leave
when you remembered your mother
what would have you done?
if everyone had just left?
would you have offered me water?
would you have carried me to your bed?
would you have woken me up,
gently?
when did we meet?
on my birthday,
adjacent to the one
who hurt you.
but honestly it feels like
i have already known you
for lifetimes
when i chase you, you run
but when i stop, you come back
to check on me
i know we’re both scared
of being hurt and being used
but i won’t use you
can you promise not to use me?
i know you’ve withdrawn yourself
and i have too, recently
but maybe
just maybe
we can open up to each other
and learn
to be happy again
you said
you only want to be intimate with
a significant other
not specifically a girlfriend
and you know i’m not a girl—
i’m an “other”
and you said
you were straight but—
with some wobbly lines.
bicurious.
are you thinking about me?
or are you thinking about—
…
i don’t want to chase you anymore
i don’t want to back you into a corner
but i still hope you sit next to me
if we were both the rebound
if we were both used
& tossed away
like old toys—
are we meant to be together?
mine was joel
yours was noah
what is it with four letter names?
(though, to be fair
ours are both
four letters
as well)
i enjoyed our time together
i’m glad it was enough
that i fed you well
and for once
i’m glad
that i didn’t sleep over
you want me to get drunker
another glass of wine, just one more
why? so i touch you? so i get more confident?
make me pull your hair? push you around?
kiss you?
...
your room, spotless, other than a picture of your friends
from back in örebro
right next to the little TY rat i got you for your birthday
you’re cleaning now.
are you trying to become better?
no longer a project boyfriend,
but a perfect one?
...
i blew smoke in your face,
you inhaled and hummed at me,
smiling.
verena said that
we should’ve shotgunned the smoke
lips to lips.
...
i always feel like i don’t deserve you,
but everyone says says you don’t deserve me.
we don’t deserve each other,
but i do know i yearn.
...
you let me paint your nails...
said it was nice to be taken care of
well,
it was nice to take care of you
smoothen out your
rough
edges
...
was that a joke
when you held up your finished nails
and said you were bisexual now?
....
you asked me if i liked your perfume
asked me first
and i held your wrist, gently,
up to my nose.
it was nice.
what was that? was that a move?
was it super effective?
i just hurt myself in confusion
what are we, felix?
...
you know what i want already.
but when i whispered—
“are you my birthday present?”
it may have been lost in translation
...
i just want you to touch me back
like that night
where you held me still on your lap
and poured me a glass
of your stolen wine.
x = 9 is a mario maker glitch where the ninth column of tiles of the level map has different physics, different properties, and different interactions from the rest of the game
felix?
...
do you like me?
...
“what are you asking?”
...
“because, of course, i like you as a friend”
...
“or are you asking like like?”
...
yeah. i guess.
...
...
...
...
