after Chen Chen
In winter, he taught you to love your shit,
that everything coming out of your body
is perfect, & you can touch that beauty if
you want. You understand it is all about
love by the end, how you hope someone
will handle your mess like it’s still a part
of you worth protecting. Remember all of
those times it wasn’t about love? The one
boy who looked down at the small fleck
on his cock afterwards, said that’s fucking
disgusting. You just stared blankly at him,
wondered what he used his asshole for.
You said the same thing to your first,
& it was about love that time. Remember
the empty feeling in your belly when you
saw it on yourself? Of course you do. You
still feel bad, want to apologize to every love
you’ve ever wronged, but you’re getting older.
Your insides have only ever known a hollow
shame you’ve tried to fill with nameless men.
Know that I only say you, because I’m scared,
because I’ve heard it’s bad to be too wrapped
up in the first person, because I hear too many
people describe other people’s words as shit
lately, & I don’t speak up. I don’t say we can
all be some kind of hot shit. I just stare blankly
& remember it’s all about love in the end.
I imagine how someone must have fucked
those words free. Give me more of that shit;
I’ll hold that shit in my hands all night.