maybe we imagined each kiss a butterfly stomach or a mostly nude dragon tangled in leather breathing us a fiery sky so we could be some sort of room for gender fuckery for sensuality for getting to know one another i’m glad we went i want you to know you better it’s just that maybe that day wasn’t the best day for it
         that day i made us breakfast in bed i swam thirty laps i felt butch as fuck i purchased a print of leslie feinberg
         that day i wrote a cliché love poem about an orange sunset and your hip mobility and how the moon smiles down on you
         that day i turned our sex poetic taught the ocean to flirt so deeply all shades of neon grew lustful as us alone a room fully clothed and looking at one another some sort of eye fuckery is this #QUEERLUV? taglined on whatever this was to be grazed at by our community just before the talking mouths decided on #BREAKUPSEASON as i said that day wasn’t the best day for it
         that day i became the story of the eucalypt shaped like a heart how it skinned itself pink until it was once again too afraid to step on something sharp