I tell myself to like boys
But the way you look in that dress has overtaken my thoughts
The way it skips along your thighs
Inviting me to dance
The way in cinches at your waste
Calling me to wrap my arms around you

I tell myself to smile when boys talk to me
I encourage my heart beat to quicken when they hold my hand
But all I can think of is the way you look in that dress
The way it shows of the skin on your shoulders
The way your skin would feel under the soft pads of my fingertips
The way your hair falls down like a canopy
Beckoning for me to come closer

I tell myself that we can just be friends
But the way you look in that dress tell me friends will never be enough
I tell myself this is wrong
But how can the way I feel be wrong?
How can the butterflies that start in my stomach and erupt through my whole body be wrong?
How can the way you look in that dress
be wrong?

When I was in the fourth grade I didn’t understand magnets.
You told me that they were like a boy and a girl,
that the positives and negatives stuck together,
but with two girls they would just repel.
Repel,
as if the idea of two girls being together was so awful that mother nature herself would come down to pull them apart.
I think about that a lot.

And now I’m standing here in front of you,
the words dancing behind my tongue,
and I am fighting to keep them down.
I want to tell you that I’m finally happy,
that I found someone,
that when I hold her hand I don't want to run.
I want you to know that I love her,
and that I didn't actually know what love was until now.
I want you to know that with her everything is brighter,
and that I take back my feminist rants because if she were my wife I’d always cook dinner.
the love songs I listen to finally make sense,
and hell,
maybe Romeo and Juliet weren't crazy after all.

I know this might be confusing.
But before her I was soil,
And now I’m a bed of roses.
I’m sorry for hiding this for so long.
and now it seems like a college phase,
but if we’re being honest I always knew.
I knew at junior prom when my date’s hand made me recoil.
I knew when I never really hit that boy crazy phase.
and I knew when I saw her,
When we watched a movie on the grass and I laid my head on her shoulder,
and I felt like I was home.

And I’ve tried to change,
if I knew how I would.
When Mom died you said you would always love me.
I hope you meant it,
because I’ve tried to pick between you.
Take you, leave her.
Take her, leave you.
But I can’t.
So please don’t make me.

drunk and confused,
hands stumble in the dark:
thigh,
waist,
move up the arm,
fingers in her hair,

god, she's so soft
she smells like marshmallow creme;
tastes even better

hand on the cheek
smile and giggle through the kisses
we're holding hands with fingers locked tight

can't get enough of each other
i don't want to pull away
but i want to see her face again,
i want to tell he how much i love her,
want to count her endless freckles again, stop at sixty-four

kiss her eyelids
note how long her beautiful, light eyelashes are
kiss her on the mouth again
and again and again and again

can't stop smiling
don't want to stop smiling,
falling,
hard,
fast,
out of control

i want this forever.
i want her forever.