Boys are only half of the equation.

Many seasons ago I discovered both

males and

females.

And there is no way to predict who will or

who will not

clear the chasm.

I have experienced this changing;

an investment of my valid humility,

gone and

unprotected.

I am human,

but because I do not clear any stereotypes,

because I am not a

dictionary defenition,

the ones I love do not protect me.

They say I am confused:

that this fad is on its way out, but

it is not.

The only thing that is

on its way out is

me, emerging from the closet.

They say I should love young men,

and I do, but

you love the ones you love,

and whoever that happens to be,

they are worth it.

They are worth all of

the tears and

pain and

sorrow

that come from living in a world filled

with hatred.

But they cannot prevent me from

remembering her.

They can take away

everything,

but they cannot

take away the

curve of her collarbones and

her golden mane of hair and

the way her voice cracked when she told me that she loved me and

how soft her lips always felt

against mine.