Just Friends

I’m not straight

I haven’t tried to be, really

I mean there were

A few things and a

Few times and a few lies, but

I can’t pretend to have

Lived the straight lifestyle

So I can’t speak for

Straight breakups

But I can say

That my queer breakup

Was the most painful and

Bizarre and overwhelming experience

Of my life

I had

Reconstructed my whole

Social existence

Including

My family disowning me

For a relationship

That I felt

I needed in order

To be myself, fully

It’s so strange

How much power

Your first lover

Has over your sense of self

She completely owned me

I was cheap, back then–

Practically free

She paid me off and

Went off looking for an upgrade

I gave my whole life

Almost five years

To someone who viewed me as a

Cheap date

But the thing that

Really hurt

Was what came after

The long, silent ache

A wake of sorrow

Invisible to the cis, straight eye

A type of pain, a

Kind of rejection that

Tore my mind open and

Threw me into myself more ferociously

Than a middle aged man

Who had a heart attack

Buying a bike

I knew right then

I was that

Loser asshat pervert fuckface

Who got played by some

Girl who was always straight

For some lifestyle that’s

Inherently better than

What I could’ve given her

Of course now I know

That incompatibility in relationships

Is a fate worse than loneliness

But I also understand

That no one is gay

No one is straight

BUT–

when you breakup

The only real kind of pain

Is straight pain

The only real kind of heartache

Is straight heartache

The only sympathy you’ll get

From anyone

Is that of someone

Losing a friend

Or a cousin

Or something else

Same-sex

That this random conforming asshole

Can understand

The number of times

My relationship’s legitimacy

Was disrespected

After it ended

Simply because of my gender

Would make any

Self-respecting rose

Shove Jack

Right into the ocean

After all

They barely knew each other

They were

Just friends

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