You're upset today, you tell me.
So I'll reach out to hold your hand,
Cup your palm between mine.
Take note -
Already my readers think You
Are my "love" interest –
Mistaking the word love,
Misunderstanding the word love;
And I let them.
Because it's easier this way.
No-one ever said one poem can change the way centuries of mainstreamed statistics have hypnotised minds
Has fed mouthfuls of stereotypes down people's throats.

They think you're my "love" interest
Because your head is on my shoulder,
Because I am wiping your tears,
And I let them.
Because humans are scientific beings,
Believing in concrete, tangible data;
Because associating touch to validate a feeling makes them feel safe,
Because the heat of the flesh makes more sense when fighting the cold of loneliness.

What the hell am I saying, you ask.
I smile at you.
Take note -
This poem is "biased".
And "prejudiced".
And probably "offensive".
I will be "invalidating" their sexuality,
Demeaning the value of "love",
Killing the idea of "romance".

Take note -
This poem has too many quotation marks.
Too many double meaning-ed words.
Too many sarcasm laced sentences.
Because see,
When you're like me –
That is, when
You're not like them
And yet you've been given the same set of vowels and consonants,
You have to twist their tongue to make sense of your feelings.
Romance –
Sex
Infatuation –
Sex
Attraction –
Sex
Love –
Sex
Touch –
Hugs,
Kisses,
Kisses;
Touch.
Touch.
Touch.
I'm sorry I cannot read braille.
I'm sorry I won't trace your freckles with my fingertips.
I'm sorry I won't write a poem about how sweet your breath feels on my lips.
I'm sorry that I still say I love you.

I love you.

I love you.
Like a dreamer loves a poem.
I see you,
Like a dreamer sees a painting.
I want to hold you,
Like a dreamer holds magic
Not in their hands
But in their hearts,
And in their dreams,
Delicately, intangibly,
Impossibly.

I love you,
But not the way my readers think I do.

Take note.