"I practice kissing other boys and do not tell you.
I do not wash my hair sometimes for three or four days.
You are probably so tired of all the cigarette smoke,
the mugs full of tea setting cold on the counter,
my inability to put my clothes away after wearing them,
how I am so heavy-footed that you can’t make cakes
when I am home. If you asked me I would tell you
that yes, I am faking it, but you never do so we continue
living as we live. Dancing around each other
but never close enough to touch. We are a fire-hazard,
the little pieces that come with toy sets, not for swallowing.
My hands do not smell like my own. I try on wedding dresses
and then cry in the changing room. The truth is I love you.
What I am trying to say is that I never want to see you again."