0 and 1 and everything in between and beyond

I sit with bulging
thighs
waiting for
you to sink me down
because isn’t
love about drowning

I sit with tires on
my stomach
waiting for you to
run me over
because isn’t
love an accident

I sit with lips you call
chapped
eyes you see
as squinted

and
boobs
too disproportionate
for your
photography

only for you
to come
dismantle every ounce
of self esteem
I ever had

you, though,
come in forms
I cannot fathom

or recognize

often in
jeans and a shirt
armed with intellect
you bring along
your gang
of boys men brothers
sometimes
dressed in dresses
sometimes with makeup on
sometimes just
with an ego
I find reflective in
my forefathers
and family portraits

you once told
me
my face
was too hairy
for your liking
and then your
brother
the one
with the sweet smell
offered to fix me
for you

and he fixed me alright
not too dark
not too light
he touched me
in places you shuddered to
he talked to me
in words my sisters did
and for once- I wondered
could I fall in love with
a man
you jokingly called
a sissy

but then he touched
me
only to fix me
for you
he had no
interest in my pussy

he loathed
my body
he called it sad
he said I would have
made a great man

and yet
he touched me in
places you shuddered to

the deviances
we created
fell into dejection
and displayed a sense
of deserted disarmament
and before
I can utter
another word with the
D

the memory of his touch
crops up
reminding me
of all that I was
and would have been

if only
we weren’t

living in binaries

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