dear Me in the Closet,

imagine a sunrise that goes on for forever,
the radiant colors staining every inch of the sky you see.
beautiful, right?

that’s you – your heart is so full for a world that couldn’t see it.
but you’ll get there.

you walked in shame and hung your head at the thought,
of composing poems for ‘hers’ and ‘them’
rather than just ‘him’
The bones of your true self is an awful heavy weight to bear

you prayed to a God you didn’t quite believe
for a sign that maybe this wasn’t what it was
that you didn’t look at the girl across the class
and want to immortalize her beauty in ink

(for that would be false worship, right?
                no praise for a body so like your own.)

one night you will revolt against your fears
and crack open the door to your essence
you will guide people into your heart’s museum
and tour everything on display.

they will like what they see.
for your love is beautiful, authentic, true as can be.
men, women, all in the middle--
-- stories waiting to be cracked open for you.

to the me in the closet,
do not be afraid of your love, and the art it makes.
the world may never understand
but your world does.
 

cherish that.

always,
me (the lover, the artist, free.)