the way it tasted in my mouth,
on my pitiful fortuned future,
one where a man
with a hairy chest and no room in it for me,
was what to desire,
so I learned to choke back my own,
believing a life without love,
a throat full of thirst,
was my white flag.
So don’t tell me you always knew,
because for a long time I didn’t.
I held in my mouth the dripping inkling
that i was meant for a woman all along.
But the delectable nectar,
the joyous certainty,
was far too sweet to spit out.