In a post office
In the leafless
lifeless
orchard
the few apples
that never fell
hang from trees
like men
lynched
in another time
and the days
turning colder
in the poetic
sense only
Part 1: The Breakup Message
I really adore you, but I’m not in love with you. I’ve genuinely enjoyed getting to know you and will always cherish the experiences we’ve shared. You’re a wonderful person, but I simply don’t see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I won’t pick you apart—that would be cruel, and you don’t deserve it. Please don’t change anything about yourself; your qualities that aren’t compatible with a long-term relationship with me might be exactly what someone else finds attractive. I’m flattered you’d want to keep working on things, but I’ve already moved on, and a clean break would be best for us. I don’t mean to seem cold, but I’m assuming you’ll need some space. If, however, you do need to talk more about the situation, I’m here for you.
Part 2: The Reaction
She was confused, upset, and immediately asked for more explanation. We had made more plans for the summer, and she stated everything had seemed fine, leaving her feeling completely blindsided.
Part 3: Reflection on Effort
I believe that’s simply what it looks like when someone gives 100 percent effort. You make plans, take risks, and truly enjoy the time spent together. I have no regrets; not every story ends in ‘happily ever after,’ and that’s truly okay. If I had never tried, we never would have known what could have been.
I take the flowers out of the makeshift vase
the Appalachian in me will always have a mason jar fit for any ocasion
this one now sits wide mouthed and empty
what’s left of the bouquet is wilted and dead in my hands
I can’t remember what they were for
my birthday, maybe a plea of forgiveness, a I loving reminder
Now forgotten and shriveled like the petals that crunch and fall away with each movement
a squeeze, a sway, a quick toss
there they lay
back to the earth they were plucked from
Humans making amends by destruction
Some say it’s a beautiful gesture
I think it’s a hideous reminder
The worst part
of taking off the nail polish
after a night out
or a weekend
or a vacation as myself
is not knowing
when I’ll get to be her again.
The thing I want more than
pierced ears
or dyed red hair
or maybe even breasts
is to have beautiful
polish on my fingernails
24/7.
A mani-pedi was
one of my first moments
of deep gender euphoria.
And, like an addict,
I’ve been chasing that high ever since.
For me, it never diminishes
until I have to get out
the acetone and cotton
and hide her beauty
again
until some unknown time.
