Before the world

before the word —

it was just me staring too long,

at him, at her, at them,

telling myself it was nothing,

just bored, just tired, just fucking weird,

before the word, I was the problem,

not the feeling. before the word —

bathroom mirror cross-exams,

“why the fuck did you look at his mouth like that,”

“why the hell did her laugh stick in your ribs,”

“why do you wanna be him

and also wanna touch him,”

same three questions on a loop

like a broken, bitchy god in my head. before the word —

I rewrote every crush as a glitch,

a joke, a dare I lost with myself,

I’d stare at her hands and then

snap my brain back like,

no the fuck you don’t,

you don’t like her,

you don’t like him,

you don’t like anyone,

you’re just tired, you’re bored, you’re making shit up,

gaslighting myself before I knew that word either. before the word —

I kept drafting fake futures:

marry some girl, hate my life,

or stay alone, die “normal,”

anything but this messy in-between,

because “gay” was loud

and “straight” was a script,

and I was stuck in the middle seat

with no belt and no label

and no one fucking saying

“you’re allowed to be both.”before the word —

there were nights I’d scroll for hours,

typing questions half and deleting them,

“why do I like guys and girls?”

“why do I feel wrong?”

“am I broken?”

backspace, backspace, backspace,

like if I never finished the sentence

the feeling couldn’t finish either. before the word —

nobody saw me drowning

because I laughed it off first,

“nah I’m just picky,”

“nah I’m just bored,”

talking shit about my own heart

so no one else got there first,

calling myself a freak with a smile

so it wouldn’t land like a punch. and then one day

the word showed up on a screen,

small, stupid, almost soft:

bi.

just two letters,

not even fancy,

but it fit in my mouth

better than any lie I’d rehearsed. and all those years

before the word

collapsed into one long “oh.”

not a miracle, not a fix,

just finally having something true

to pin on all that fucked up,

all that beautiful,

all that “wrong”

that was never wrong at all.