To live by,

dear love,

i was a swimming fetus.

Devoid of gender,

Full of clarity,

Made under the semblance of storybooks.

Doctor slapped my ass,

cut the cord,

and smiled at me,

and mother wouldn’t let me go.

My father found me

Unmatched eye color didn’t tear us,

(Though Mom thought it might be)

It was conditional,

unconditional

love.

I regret these feelings of afterbirth days

Where expected warmth in my mother’s fingertips

And the always strength of my father’s hands,

provided the irrational, the expectations:

(a need for meaning in your arms)

confusion is comforting

compared to the knowledge I’ve yet to face:

growing up is easier,

when I leave my past behind.

disillusionment is intoxication,

and baby i am drunk.

So

when I saw you

I pulled out my hair,

stuck out my breasts

and smiled through gritted teeth

I meant to be your whore,

but when I met you

i was three years old again

and my hands were too small

to grasp

but they still

tried

to grasp,

the

promise

you promise me

Last time

these

Hopes

and dreams

and expectations

left empty spaces

I filled with

Sticks

and stones

and heroin

I can’t take your embraces,

Father’s arms were warmer

I cannot take your kisses,

Mother’s kisses were softer

And

oh Sweet-

-reproductive organs connecting in the dark since we turned off the lights because we were too scared to look at each other for fear we might find what we found last time:-

sweet

- calico covered vinyl CD covers cutting away and giving what a latex slipper never could and euphoria thundering through me so that i forgot:-

sweet . . .

-saline stains,

barewood floors

shattered spinal fluid

fragmented hands-

never mind.

.

.

.

I’m sorry.

But I can’t end letters with,

I love you.

So,

(i still love you.)

good-bye.