zig zag

When I first realized I wasn’t gay, after
identifying as such for six years, the first thing
I felt was fear. The kind you feel
near a cliffside, when everything feels inevitable.
For six years, this was the only thing
I was sure of. This is the kind of fear
that wants you to believe people will
see you as divided. They’ll compare you
to a civil war even though that’s something
a person should never be compared to.

So now, I just need to write down the truth:

Bi means two, but I’m learning there’s
so many more than that. I’m learning
that there is no twin. No doppelgänger.
Just me. You cannot call my heartbeat
hesitant noise. You can’t call my everything
an eternal, attention-seeking bruise.

I don’t pick sides. There are no sides.

I love what it is soft to me. I love
what turns my body into dawn.
It’s probably going to take me years
to truly learn that. I’m learning now
that this is a word some people
just won’t say, in fear of making it
exist, and when they do say it,
they say it with a mouthful of grime.

So now, I want to write down the truth for them:

We are beautiful on any spectrum.
Our hearts are not hills.
Bisexual is not a word you spit
on the sidewalk. You have
to keep it on your tongue for a bit.

And I, I am not afraid anymore.
This isn’t a cliff. It’s a diving board.