a new girl in school. i have the deepest infatuation with her. i don't yet know love flows that way. we end up in the same section in the 11th grade. i go over to her desk. and ask if she wants to hang out in recess the following day. we repeat ourselves a few times over our racing giggling hearts. it's a deal.
a friend since high school. the childishness, rivalry and playfulness. years later. walking down a street in the afternoon of beirut. there's a tiny smudge of ice cream on her cheek. i wipe it. looking at each other with sweet sweet eyes. our breaths lose their way out for a moment. then we laugh.
a new friend. a queer friend. my heart walks the line between love and friendship. i know i like her. it's a night out. we drink out of our minds. we end up in her friend's apartment. we are tired but we have to put up with everyone's drunkenness. i am on the edge of the couch. she sits besides. her hand goes up and down and across my back. she sits on the floor. her chin and then her head rest on my knees. she looks very beautiful from there.
a one-night stand. my first taste of eurasian cuisine. exquisite. later in his place. he says he can't stop thinking about kissing me. in between the joint puffs, he can't stop kissing me.
a hesitant new face on my semester abroad. the hesitation blows over fast. we talk about bodily rights, russian intervention in the middle east and general theology. we nearly kiss twice on a truth or dare game. it keeps me hot for days. my last memory of him is a single strand of my hair hanging in his beard. a flicker of gold in his sea of soft brown. he says to keep it right there.
two good friends i have not seen in a while. it's a night out. we go to our local little gay club. In the waves of bodies. i end up in between the two. arms and legs and necks and rhythm. i feel two traces along my high rise jeans and low cut shirt. i touch the inside of a thigh and grind up another. half love grows when shared.
a gorgeous shadow across the street. a friend of a friend. a study date. a bagel date. a coffee date. between بحبِّك and ِخلّيك my little queer heart walks the line again. dwelling in the love a little longer. the last time i see you. there is a song that i sing to you. a little queer confession that we make. and ultimately a goodbye. you are not a half lover. to call you half a lover would break my heart all over again. i want to remember more of you. but writing is unfinished work.
03•14•20
