You ask me

if I

will stay.

I want to

I do, I

do

to

the

I do.

But.

A part of me, dark, biding its time

biting, baring teeth

hackles raised, eyes

wet

it howls

no

a dog, dragged

by the collar

nails scratching, clicking, desperate

on hard tile;

it does not want to go

where you are taking it.

How can I?

How can I stay

where I am so

unwanted?

They hate me, you know

I know you know I know,

that

if I stayed

like I (me you we)

want me to

there would be words.

They would throw them at us

rocks, sharp, shaming

slurs slipping

so easily,

you tell me so.

After all, they're yours,

your blood not mine.

I smile, of course, say

I won't mind

I am lying

right through

my ugly, crooked teeth.

I care!

I'll never tell you again

(I've done it once)

how badly it stings.

They hate me

condemned by birth,

criminal, commited

by my body

and what I am,

and don't you understand how that hurts me?

I already

hate my skin

this is just a stab of salt

in the shine-slick wound.

Even if, in some

far-distant future

you and me, you and I

are

youandme youandI

the traces they left on me,

scarring, thin and brittle

could never fade.

I'll carry their opinions, actions

on my back

weighted

when I once was light.

I can never be

good enough

to love you.

I will never be

gone enough

to leave you.