Poem

You…

You came out to me the way people hand over spare change—

quick, generous, already looking past my palm.

“Thanks for being cool with it,” you said,

as if my heart weren’t detonating in slow motion.

I smiled the way good allies do,

teeth first, soul later.

That night I jerked off to the version of you

that needed saving by me

and hated myself with an excellence

u…