Archive | August, 2015

bara boy (excuse me, *man*)

1 Aug

you said that people

often call you feminine, and that you

consider it a compliment,

because you don’t like super masculine guys

and you said that perhaps that’s why

so many of your closest friends are female –

but that you have no girlish giggle.


he said

that he “outgrew that phase”

because he likes bara too much,

and asked me why i like feminine guys.

i have never asked him

why he chooses to be masculine,

or why

he now prefers

guys with biceps and hair.


i like bara, too, you know,

but also yaoi.

i think that there are many types of beauty,

and so i also enjoy yuri.

he doesn’t understand that.

he thinks it’s binary.


i don’t see why

it has to be a question

why my preference

has to fit neatly into

an equation –

sound reasoning + libido

= acceptable attraction

when did i ever make him explain?


maybe that’s why he doesn’t “like” you.

not because you’re short, but because

you don’t represent

the embodiment

of krindl the bara goblin, too.


so must i also justify

my shaved head and single earring,

and my decidedly unfeminine swagger

in my men’s size six combat boots

and violet lipstick

– or is it only


that is such an affront

to the bounds of his comprehension?

am i a question, too, or only you –

or is it an accusation?



for all he tries to prove that it was

just a

phase, i’d still peg him as gay

within a day,

because i guess you can’t

hide your true self

too well,

(and i should know, i’ve


or pretend that your internalized

phobia(hatred) of being feminized

is fully true.

i just wish he’d

stop acting like the type

who might judge you

for being you.


who seems to judge me

for who i am,



charcoal eyes

1 Aug

she drew your eyes

so intense

within the charcoal of your face,


but her hands

didn’t smooth away the

worry lines that she has etched

into your skin

– she cracks you like glass.


i would hold you like

a picture frame,

and treat the gentle thoughts

behind the pane

like precious heirlooms,

and i would never spill coffee on them,

or leave them unattended near candles.


i would treat the

less-than-gentle thoughts

kindly too,

because they are yours.


but it’s not right to be envious,

and it’s certainly not


and you

you trust my advice to be

honest, without

bias, invisible agendas or


that may be less than


for all i know.


you. you trust me.


i don’t want to wish this ill

but i cannot wish well to

a candle leaping so close to

a work of art,


to a coffee mug

that will only leave

teardrop-stains on your


and holes in the paper.


so instead i will wish well to you,

and cross my heart that

i never will


paint you with my eyes,

or smear you with charcoal

in her place.


and i will cross my heart

to keep my words


so that i can say

the less-than-rosy things

that are really, really important

– about what happens

when you mix fire

with anything,

but especially paper,

and especially art –

and i will know that there is no agenda.



you are beautiful,

and you are worth more

than either of us


or are.


you are worth more than

cracked glass.