When You Find Me: A Black Man's Queerness Writes a Letter to Him

When you find me, I will be the body of a boy that hates you. And you will not know where this hatred comes from and you will tell yourself that it is love.
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when you find me

I will be the body of a boy that hates you.

and you will not know where this hatred comes from and you will tell yourself that it is love.

and this is a beautiful thing

and the worst thing

but this is a beautiful thing

your recycling of spit and slurs into sweet honey handholds and imaginary

shoulder touches. when you find me I will be the

white boy that owns you more than you want him too.

more than he thinks he can.

more than you knew was possible

when you find me you will have found the impossible.

you will have burned a bridge

and dug a hole

and planted a pot

and loved a lot

when you find me

your mother's tears will be distant memories and your father's shouts will be

wounds that wane and tighten and tingle,

tickle sometimes when you're with people that have been cut,

too. when you find me

your best friend will have resigned

to me.

shelving her childhood fascination with your laughter

or so she will tell you. and you will believe her

and you should, for you are not all that.

and you were 13, once.

and you did not know me but I knew you

like glitter glue stick and extra vaseline on paper cut.

they said you were sensitive and they were right.

but who would have known just how brittle the bones of a

black boy could be

under the weight of negro graveyards singing brandy?

the boy is mine remains one of your favorite hymns.

when you find me I will be blacker than coal lung

I will be wet and wriggling

gasping for air

i will be dancing

when you find me i will be unspoken crushes

and your biggest crush is yourself

and it is the most unspoken, too.

when you find me i will demand you hold your hands

out, sometimes.

I will be the legacy.

I will be the lake front chill that shakes out your spine on a summer's night.

I will be your Black grandmother's hands that look more like yours than yours do hers.

so gentle.

when you find me I will be sewed into shower sonnets

and blogged poems.

when you find me I will be waiting for you at the door.

the gate.

the ledge.

the love.

the home.

the heart.

when you find me I will be yours and you will be

This piece originally appeared on blaqueerflow.com.

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