For years I have watched my peers,
A black and white image of boys and girls
Gliding through halls with smirks written across their faces.

As they touch, their bodies turn to gold
And their glimmering whites reflect fluorescent light;
A picture of happiness framed with the human experience.

Like fire, young couples burn brightly then extinguish
To reveal their charred black wick among a pool of melted wax.
Smothered flames have been out of reach to me.

As my friends flicker on and off for days,
I have lived as a match with no box,
No rugged exterior that I need to ignite myself.

Media has told me what love should be like,
And whom I should be with, who to be attracted to.
As someone who has never followed strict currents,

My situation does not surprise me.
I’ve been wanting to stand behind a podium and shout,
“I’m OK.”

I have spent years tackling down oppression
Fighting stupid stereotypes,
And no, I’m not googoo over Gaga.

I’m a person and my sexuality is part of me,
Not what defines me. I don’t care
What I am supposed to be like, I care for who I am.

As a person, I am a lover of Plath and cool summer nights
And I can’t stand people with yippy dogs in sweaters.
I am me, not an idea in people’s heads.

Flip open the lid of the lighter,
Press down on the metallic wheel,
I’ll burn by myself.