To Be Her All Is All I Need to Be

*I wrote this when I was 19, and very much experiencing the intensity of gay love for the first time- and since I filmed a video talking about these feelings, I thought I'd share this (even though this piece always makes me feel like a bit of a freak for writing it).*

I want to be an obsession, a cause you can’t live without, the thing you would drop everything for to speak with one last time. I want to be your nightly routine and your favorite thing to look forward to in the morning. I want to be something to you, so grand, that it breaks your heart and wipes away your thoughts when you hear me. I want to be your everything. Is that so bad? I only wish to mean everything to you, and I hardly think thats unfair, when I’ve spent my entire life doing all for you. ​

I do all for you. I bleed myself blue just to make sure I'm tip toeing around all the right corners and bulldozing down all the right streets, for you. 

I let women devour me, consume me whole, and eat away my flesh- just to feel their satisfaction, their love thats born in my attention. I do anything for them, if it means appeasing them, impressing them, pleasing them. I would give them all and take none, if it only meant the chance to love them. I do anything for you. I do all for you. 

I do things without you now.

I have lived an entire life without you, in years since you, and I have succeeded. I have survived in lungs that didn’t breathe with your breath, and didn’t cave in your absence. Lungs who once begged for the air in your presence have pulsated for three winters without even the slightest sound of your name. I can breathe better now, isn’t that funny? 

I have not forgotten you. I hold on to the way you made me feel in the absolute worst way possible. I idolize you. I idolize you and I idolize our feelings under a scorching sun where our hands were burning while wet. Fire, that was damned in the center of its demise, continued to burn brightly on the ground between our feet. It is heat, I feel, in the center of my palms when you touch me. I would almost think I was touching me, too. 

I idolize falling into the pool, only to be filled with the power of whiskey under water. I now know why mixed drinks hit harder. To be fair to these feelings, I think a drink always hits harder next to the person you love- next to the person you don't know you love.

Especially next to the person you don’t know you love. 

Leaning over to kiss you- when all I’ve ever not known is how badly I wanted to kiss you- is more pain than pleasure when I learned that your lips could bring home to mine. It is relief. It is destruction. It is the suffocation of my will. The burning will to not be heard, to remain the same in the safety of aged minds, to not be shattered by the softest form of embrace- but now I proclaim, despite all our memory being lost, I confess it now - 

I loved her. 

So, detox me, drink me, devour me- do all but leave me.

Please, do not leave me.  



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