wordplayground

liberation so defined
in the end was equally 
damning. the grass is
always greener and i 
carelessly allowed one
door to close while
opening another.

constantly longing 
for a definition, i 
would anchor to
anything within reach,
then self-impose the
boundaries. in failure
i would return to the
darkness and frustration,
bottled up in the vain
attempt for success.

coming full circle now,
i realize the definition 
falls short, not myself.
there are no doors.
no windows. no walls.
i created this scenery
to mesh with one world
view or another, 
always thinking my own
insufficient.

desire would remain
unquantifiable and i 
would continue the search 
for a prime number.

what am i 
if not easily explained
orientation comes in a drop-down menu
select a single word and
no disclaimer or 
justification explanation 
allowed.

how will i 
understand my self
in the narrowing down of
important moments to a single
page profile?

of the available options
i selected lesbian
because it fit 
how i see myself,
not because i wanted to fit
your cookie cutter
single-size stereotype.

every word scrawled on
pages worn from re-reading
every piece of
clutter decoration in
the space where i actually
exist
is me, what
word would possibly fit
in the multiple-choice
select-the-best-answer
drop-down 
coded to put getting
-to-know-you
on a page.

this is about the way a familiar face looks foreign when shown in a new light,
the way your vision blurs while your eyes adjust to the revelation.

this is about the assumptions made in the moments before the picture is clear,
the way you cling to those beliefs despite conflicting details now in sight.

this is about the applause at the end of a show, commending your brilliant performance,
it's about the way the actors drop their costumes to the floor.

this is about coming out from whatever closet has sheltered you,
it's about the saturation of the new light and subsequent lack of clarity.

this is about me.

i've been standing at this door for over three months now.
pushing myself up against it - trying to see a wider angle through the peephole.
trying to make sense of the images through 6" square textured glass windows.
turning the handle - waiting for a reaction - nothing.
terrified that if i did open this door, that i would change my mind.
that i might not like the weather, or forget my jacket.
what if i try to come back in and i have all the wrong keys?
what if i hate it out there - what if i miss the comfort indoors?
so i stay here, pushing against the door, savoring every glimpse of the life i'm afraid of.
textured glass is pretty but you never see the whole picture.

(doors were meant to be opened!)