it’s just not— i don’t get it
i’m tired of trying
to be loved or loved right or needed
above all else. o, i am beautiful & desperate
for anyone.
somewhere a shower of praise is waiting
for me
to step into it, wet myself.
here i’m waiting
for a little push start
gas to fill the tank, take me
where i want
to go or at least where i’ll settle
a moment a minute a day or
two. i barely tanned this summer
my brown eyes are still waiting for something
to make them shine. o sun, please stay
i’m not ready
to let you go i need you
to stretch out just a little longer.
there’s a dream i dream often
of being seen how i want
to be seen by who i want to see me.
are we sure i’m awake?
i’m ready to wake up now
in the bed of someone i love or
once loved or don’t know how to stop
loving. to stop loving i think first
i have to find a suitable replacement but
my revolving door of boys got stuck
w me in it & them watching me go
round & round in stupid circles.
if i play cis will you play pretend w me?
if i pretend i know the difference between love & obsession will you fall w me?
BEE LB is an array of letters, bound to impulse; a writer creating delicate connections. they have called any number of places home; currently, a single yellow wall on unceded Anishinaabe land in Michigan. they have been published in FOLIO, Figure 1, The Offing, and Harpur Palate, among others. their portfolio can be found at twinbrights.carrd.co and they can be found at patreon.com/twinbrights
