the moon and you

about me

what makes you you? my english teacher asks through bleached canine teeth. i am more frightened by the question than wolf before me and i wonder how i'm supposed to put into words that follow her strict layout of what a poem is, what a person is, don't filter my content, i've never used an outline in my life, how can i describe this?

what makes you you, like i can explain marinara sauce dripping down my bed frame, like somehow i'm supposed to depict the heavy silence that weighs on the kitchen, clashing with words spoken through emptiness, like i can write about how my mother loves me and i've never been more miserable.

what makes you you, like there's supposed to be a fucking reason i came out broken, a dysfunctional mechanical doll, if only there was a store to bring me back to, or a number to dial to demand reasons why their toy is broken. there isn't. but you know maybe that's what makes me me, the fact i was born without the same piece everyone else has. i was a doll born without the same highlights on my cheeks as all the little girls want, i don't have the serotonin they want, dammit i just want to be happy. maybe then the porcelain girls will like me.

what makes you you is a collection of words that make my chest ache because i come from internalized homophobia and girls at soccer practice with sweat glueing pony tailed hair to their necks. i come from a childhood of look at him, like him, compulsory heterosexuality singing like a goddamn hummingbird in my mind. a childhood of bundled up feelings that scrape my insides when she touches me, that one time when we were racing each other and i tripped because i looked at you too long do you remember?

what makes you you, keep asking me because i don't fucking know why i'm such an asshole. maybe it's just who i am and maybe who i am is just a frightened child, afraid of getting hurt. you can't destroy a city that's walled off. but i'm thinking about troy and how it was walled off and it still collapsed. didn't that war go on for like ten years? like what the fuck. but i guess my war's been raging for sixteen years. and i'm tired. how do i explain to a public school teacher what it's like to be losing in a civil war against myself, to have every cell in my body fighting against each other every second it feels like i'm being t o r n.

what makes you you, she asks and i tell her i don't know and take the zero.

ya'll i changed my cover so enjoy it especially cause it's lesbian pride day!!! and i'm gay!!! have a good pride month all my fellow queers 🏳️‍🌈 (that's the rainbow flag emoji if you can't see it lol)