I have cried
reclaimed my sexuality
built a cradle for my armor
and fastened a louder pitch to my stride

My backbone has developed a steel center
to prevail over my fear of spiders
heights and you

My thoughts have acquired deep calluses
and the nimble acrobatics of a pen
or a concerto in D

I do not visit the area twice
or dwell on memories
like things I can’t touch

I have discovered ways to write underwater,
to fill a page with a single belief,
to shoot a pistol,
to let go at the intersection

I no longer wear glasses
and I never blink twice

I defied the law of gravity in June
made some new friends
and purchased a full length mirror for my bathroom

I stand naked in front of it nightly to stare
at things you can’t touch.

most especially

happy endings

I weep for those characters

who stand on the brink

of irreversible and ugly truths

they have yet to discover

I’m not sorry it pains me

what a cruel fate

the universe returns

one day

I stopped believing that such ideas

like love are sustainable

we will rot like fruit

develop imperfections and perish

and all we have left to show for it

    is a photograph

the ouroboros

of our regrets.