when a flame is smothered,
it collapses on itself
like hopes and dreams that were crushed
under the falling reality.
they say that who i love,
is not the way “love” works
and that i should burn,
like the witches of Salem as the fire consumed
them alive.
girls like boys
and boys like girls.
that’s how “love” works.
love is not the spark of happiness i get
when i see her.
love is not the comfort i get
when i wrap my arms around her.
love is not the bright smile i get when i see her.
love is not the inside jokes we share
when we make memories
that will last an eternity.
love, they say,
is the feeling of crashing waves,
water pushing its way into your lungs
as people tell you to come to the surface,
but you can’t swim.
love, they say,
is the darkness that eats you from the inside out,
forcing you into a box of lies and misery.
love, they say,
are the handcuffs that chain me to this web
of masks.
love, they say,
is the pain and the tears and the sadness
you get
from ever
imagining a future with him.
they told me that i will never understand love,
because girls cannot love other girls.
because my love is wrong.
because i am wrong.